


open your eyes and see

by flying_dream



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Also Jisung has anxiety btw and it will be explored here, Alternate Universe - College/University, Did not realise how much food they eat in this fic jfc, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gratuitous mentions of other idols, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Making Out, Ok technically they're childhood friends, On a related note: because of that they swear like sailors, Someone save Felix the poor boy, Who just sort of hate each other at the same time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-02-22 20:49:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 84,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23433541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_dream/pseuds/flying_dream
Summary: Ever since they were children, Jisung and Hyunjin have never particularly gotten along. It's a given fact of life: the sky is blue, the sun sets in the west, and Hwang Hyunjin and Han Jisung hate each other. But then their friends somehow get it into their heads that they're dating and instead of setting them straight, the pair decide it's in their best interests to play along.(In Jisung's defence, it isn't even his idea.)
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin, Past Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, one-sided Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 393
Kudos: 1334
Collections: drop everything and read this, hyunsung





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> so i started this fic on 29th dec. it's the product of (a) that two kids room episode of jisung and hyunjin where they admitted that they used to hate each other as trainees and i was like - cut the cameras, deadass, this is the enemies-to-lovers ship i never knew i needed and (b) that hyunsung fic 'hold my hands' by prdshan which i read before falling asleep on the 28th dec. the two combined to give me some weirdass hyunsung dream and so here we are now.
> 
> also i'm british so the whole uni experience is loosely based off uk unis bc ik nothing about sokor's uni system and you'll probably see a few britishisms slip through so sorry for that if you notice them.
> 
> also pls ignore the fact that this fic has near indestructible eggs, this is ao3, the laws of physics do not apply here
> 
> [russian translation](https://ficbook.net/readfic/10229058)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE (08/09/20): after the very serious allegations that have come out against woojin today, i am no longer comfortable with including him in my works. even if he is just a very minor character here, i've decided to edit him out. i hope you respect my decision bc quite frankly, i cannot endorse a person such as him. that's all.

**ONE.**

If you want to get technical about it, it’s all Felix’s fault. He’s the one who jumped to conclusions like he was Neil Armstrong landing on the moon and then went around sharing them with just about everyone he could get his small hands on. He’s the one who unwittingly delivered a ripe opportunity to his hands. Jisung just happened to take advantage of the situation. Like any other logical, self-serving teenager who’s somewhat okay with deceiving his friends and family for his own cause would do. (A good one, though!)

Quite frankly, it’s not even his _idea_ if someone needs to be blamed for what happens.

It goes a little something like this.

“Jisung.”

The sound of his name cuts through the music feeding into his ears, prompting Jisung to start with a soft curse and jerk upright. He yanks his earphones free and looks at his bedroom door where one of his flatmates, Soobin, hovers in the gap it reveals. He looks hesitant, in the way Choi Soobin often does to be frank, but ploughs on when he sees he has Jisung’s attention.

“This is going to sound odd, but can you get our eggs back from Felix? He keeps, uh – walking around with them? Not the entire carton, of course, but random eggs here and there. And I kinda want to make pancakes because I’m sad and homesick, but there’s no eggs in the flat because of him. So I need them back.”

Jisung raises his eyebrows. “You can’t just buy them or something?”

“Why would I buy eggs when we have them already?” Soobin frowns gently. “They just happen to be in Felix’s pockets for some reason.”

To tell you the truth, even Jisung doesn’t know why Felix keeps walking around with eggs and he’s been best friends with the guy since he came fresh off the plane from Australia a few years back. Felix is just a bit of a strange guy. That one weird kid in class. But he’s Jisung’s weird kid so screw anyone who judges him.

Fortunately, Soobin doesn’t seem to be judging Felix, just cutting his fun short in the name of pancakes to cure his homesickness, so Jisung agrees to go hunt their flatmate down for the beloved eggs. He rolls out of bed, figures that his outfit’s good enough for something as mundane as this – it’s not like anyone’s going to know that the ramen stain on the cuff of his joggers is a few days old – and heads to the dance studios.

It’s as good a place to start as any since he knows Felix has been struggling with this one move in his Introductory Hip Hop class and Felix, like most dance students, is physically incapable of returning to class without nailing it. Luckily for him, the walk from the student accommodation to the dance studios isn’t that long.

He says ‘luckily’ as this is good news for Jisung since the sun is out to play today and he has elected to avoid the sun for the foreseeable future. It’s bright and it makes him sweat. He’s not a dance undergrad or a gym freak, he doesn’t need to _sweat_. Which is why he’s declared his intentions to stay far away from all sources and causes of it _._

It’s disgusting. Disgusting, unnecessary and unwelcome.

Much like the person he sees on the other side of the glass-paned door to Studio 5 when he arrives.

Jisung heaves a sigh, rolls his eyes and collects himself with the air of someone about to enter battle. Then he flings the door open, internally congratulates himself for not flinching when it crashes against the wall, and says loudly, “Yo, dickface, where’s Felix?”

Hyunjin cries out at the sudden outburst of noise, flinching in the middle of chugging down a bottle of water. It spills over his t-shirt, sticking the sweat-stained material to his skin, and he scowls, glaring over in Jisung’s direction.

Naturally, he laughs.

“You’re such a fucking child, Han Jisung,” Hyunjin bites out. He wipes the stray drops of water from his chin and screws the bottle shut. “What are you even doing here? You can’t dance.”

That’s a lie. Jisung _can_ dance. Just… not very well.

Besides, if he genuinely wanted to put himself through that sort of torture – which he _doesn’t_ , thank you very much, he’s fine sitting hunched over in a recording studio instead, not seeing sunlight or breathing clean air for several days in a row – he’s pretty sure he can wipe the practice room’s floor _clean_ with Hyunjin.

“I mean,” he says with an artful shrug he’s perfected to piss people off, “neither can you, but you’re here.”

The insult hits right where it’s meant to. It’s practically a visible image: the way he tosses it over, the way it arcs through the dance studio to strike Hyunjin’s shoulders which tense under the assault. His scowl deepens and he pushes himself to his feet as if to appear more threatening just because he happens to have a few inches on Jisung. Never one to back down, Jisung squares his own shoulders, raring to go.

To his disappointment, Hyunjin doesn’t fire back with his own witty retort. He just rolls his eyes as if he’s already tired of their conversation.

“Fuck off,” he says as mildly as one would comment on the weather. “Go back to whatever shithole you hide away in like a hermit. I’m too busy to play this game with you.”

“What, like I got out of bed for _you?”_ Jisung scoffs. He leans against the doorframe and throws Hyunjin an unimpressed look. “I’m here for Felix. One of our flatmates is making pancakes and Felix has all of our eggs. I’ve been sent to get them.”

Another person might’ve been bewildered by such a statement. Someone who doesn’t know Felix very well or has only briefly spoken to him in passing. Fortunately, Hyunjin has known Felix for only ten seconds less than Jisung has – though those ten seconds, he would like to argue, makes for all the difference in the world – so he doesn’t bat an eyelid at what comes out of Jisung’s mouth. He just bends down, rummages through what Jisung recognises to be Felix’s bag, and plucks out a familiar speckled brown object.

He looks Jisung dead in the eye. “This what you’re looking for?”

“What, you need me to confirm it? Haven’t you ever seen an egg before? Go on, pass it over.”

He takes a step forward. Hyunjin takes an equally measured step back.

“No,” the prick says, pulling it close to his chest. He doesn’t remove his eyes from Jisung’s gaze, purely so he can see the absolutely smug glint they carry. “I think I’ll hold onto it.”

Jisung takes another step forward. “Give me the egg.”

“No.”

“Give me. The fucking. Egg.”

Hyunjin ignores the dangerous tone that has crept into his voice. “No, I don’t think I will.”

See, the thing about Hyunjin and Jisung is that they just don’t particularly get along with each other.

It confuses many people, especially because they’ve ran in the same circles since they were both little kids (and when a high schooler once threatened to beat Hyunjin senseless, it was twelve-year-old Jisung who promised to stuff the guy’s balls down his throat). But regardless of this – regardless of the fact that they eat lunch together, know the numbers for each other’s landlines off by heart and requested to be roomed in the same flat in their student accommodation applications – their personalities clash terribly. They’re kind of notorious for it.

Jisung can’t help it. There’s just something about Hwang Hyunjin that triggers his fight or flight response and every time, he chooses to come out swinging.

Which is why he finds himself rushing across the dance studio to tackle him.

“I said give me the egg, you fucking dick,” he grunts, hands fighting to claw it out of Hyunjin’s grasp.

The other spits out a vicious and spiteful _no,_ twisting his upper body away from Jisung, but Jisung merely slings a leg around the back of his calf and jerks it towards him. The two of them crash to the ground, Hyunjin landing heavily on his back and Jisung, blessed by the gods as he is, landing on top of him.

They barely have a second to catch their breath before Jisung starts to climb him like a tree to get to the egg. Hyunjin shrieks, lifting his arms out of the way up above his head while he desperately twists his torso to dislodge him, but Jisung clings on.

Just as his hands close around Hyunjin’s, he feels them spasm and then –

_Crack._

Yolk spills over their palms. Mouth opening in shock – no, _horror_ at the sheer _audacity_ of the dancer – Jisung freezes and meets Hyunjin’s eyes incredulously. They are printed with nothing short of a challenge.

“You sick, sick bastard,” Jisung breathes.

Hyunjin smirks. “Oops.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

With that promise made, Jisung slams Hyunjin’s hands back to the ground so he can’t try to fight back or defend himself. The other responds with a wild buck of his hips, trying to knock him off-centre, but Jisung steadfastly holds on. He _refuses_ to lose this battle. This is not just about Felix’s egg or Choi Soobin’s homesickness pancakes. This is about Jisung’s dignity as a man and as a human being, and how he’ll be damned if he lets Hyunjin undermine both. This is –

“Hey, Hyunjin, I just – _OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK.”_

Jisung’s head snaps up to find Felix in the open doorway, a hand slammed over his mouth. His eyes are blown wide over it as he stares at them in horror.

“Oh hey, Felix,” he says casually. “I was looking for you.”

Felix slowly lowers his hand. “Guys, what the fuck,” he repeats weakly. “This is – I just… this is a _dance studio._ People _dance_ in here, you can’t just – what the fuck.”

Okay? Jisung throws him a quizzical look, confused by why he’s stating the obvious. Yeah, he’s sure the architects who designed the studios didn’t exactly picture two nineteen year olds to be wrestling over an egg in it, but it’s not like they’ve violated the sanctity of the place or anything. They’ve fought in plenty of places that aren’t meant for such things.

“I’m just gonna… I’ll leave you two to it,” Felix says, still looking very much terrified. His eyes dart quickly between the two boys on the floor and then he blurts, “Bye!” before hightailing it out of the room, slamming the door shut in his wake.

Mystified, Jisung looks to Hyunjin as though he can offer an explanation. The boy shrugs, seemingly just as lost, before he takes advantage of Jisung’s lack of concentration and knocks him off-balance with one decisive twist of his body. Jisung lets himself fall to the ground, though he kicks back when Hyunjin shoves his leg off him.

“I guess you’re just going to have to buy the eggs now,” Hyunjin says with faux innocence. “Oops.”

Scowling, Jisung reaches over and wipes the yolk off his hands in Hyunjin’s hair. When he yells and pushes him away, he shrugs and echoes mockingly, “Oops.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sorry, pretty boy,” he says. “Did I mess up your hair?”

“Dickface,” Hyunjin sneers.

“And proud of it.”

With one last condescending look at the other, Jisung clambers to his feet and heads towards the door. Half an eggshell bounces off the back of his head just as he’s about to leave; he doesn’t even bother to turn around to flip Hyunjin off, just shoots him the bird and goes. As far as he’s concerned, he got the last word with that one.

The next time he has the misfortune to see Hyunjin for longer than three seconds in passing is when Jisung exits the cramped shower that dominates his crappy en suite to find the devil himself sitting on his bed. He comes to a stop in the middle of drying off his hair with his towel and stares incredulously at him.

“Are you lost or something? You _do_ know your flat is 5b, not 8b, right?”

Hyunjin barely throws him a glance. “Jaemin let me in. I have some group work to do with Felix, but he’s not back from his Creative Writing seminar yet.”

“Okay then,” Jisung says, letting his towel fall over his bare shoulders. “Let me try that again. You do know this is my room, not Felix’s, right?”

“Yeah, I do. I also know where you hide your snacks so… Here I am.”

It is at that moment that Jisung realises what Hyunjin has in his sticky hands: his new can of Paprika Pringles. His heart slows to a dangerous pace.

“Get your hands off my Pringles,” he says lowly.

Hyunjin gives him a dismissive look. “No. I haven’t ate breakfast and I’m hungry. Finders keepers, remember? Now, go and cry about it somewhere else, loser.”

Really, Jisung can’t be blamed for tackling him.

Perhaps one could argue that he jumped the gun a bit with the egg situation – he’s adamant that he didn’t, but it’s not like it matters since he bought Soobin a new damn carton of them in the end anyways – but this is a genuine violation of his privacy and personal space. These are _his_ Paprika Pringles. Bought with _his_ hard-earned student loan. How dare Hyunjin swan in like he owns the place and steal them?

“Agh – Jisung, you _idiot,_ you’re so goddamn heavy – “ Hyunjin yells as he crash-lands on top of him. “That actually _hurt.”_

“Good, you dickhead, I want my Pringles!”

He reaches for the orange can, hands sliding off the cardboard when Hyunjin yanks it away. Snarling, he throws his legs on either side of the boy for better stability to wrestle his snack back to safety and pulls on the can with renewed effort, but Hyunjin stubbornly clings on, hugging it to his chest.

“You’ll never get them!” he declares passionately. “I’ve claimed them, they’re mine!”

Honestly, who the hell does this guy think he is? Jisung pulls back to glare down at him: part-incredulous, part-determined and _entirely_ goaded on by the sheer arrogance of Hyunjin and his Paprika Pringles-stealing ways.

Then, the perfect strategy leaps to mind and he stills. A hint of a smirk flies to his mouth. One can practically see the lightbulb flicker to life above his head.

Staring him dead in the eye, Jisung reaches down and tickles Hyunjin’s side. The reaction is instantaneous; a startled laugh escapes Hyunjin’s mouth and he jolts under Jisung’s thighs, jerking away from his hand.

“Jisung, don’t,” he starts, but it’s no use.

Jisung _does._

He dives back in, this time targeting all of Hyunjin’s weak spots instead of the Pringles can. Fingers skittering up his sides, scratching under his armpits, gunning for the side of his neck. All the while, Hyunjin writhes under him, a string of involuntary high-pitched giggles ringing into the air of Jisung’s room. He laughs so hard he nearly cries, though he still refuses to let go of the crisps, just begs Jisung to stop.

“Please,” he gasps, eyes wet at the corners. His dark hair is splayed across Jisung’s grey pillowcase and his mouth stretches wide, grin dominating his face. “Jisung, please, I – _no, don’t, I can’t take it –_ “

Another round of laughter cuts his words short when Jisung tickles him again. Jisung can’t help but answer with a maniacal laugh of his own, savouring the way Hyunjin is at complete mercy to his attack. He shifts, leaning forward to tickle under Hyunjin’s arms again –

And for the second time in as many meetings, Felix interrupts them with a scream.

“For the love of _God,_ people,” he yells, slamming a hand over his eyes. “You couldn’t at least close the door? Put a damn sock on it? Not everyone needs to see you shirtless!”

Once again, Jisung pauses in his attack to look over at Felix, this time sitting up to twist his head round and frown over his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow at the way his best friend has his eyes dramatically screwed shut, then slowly glances down at his bare torso. Sure, he’s not the most good-looking guy in the world, but he has abs and shit. He’s not _that_ disgusting to look at.

Clearly catching onto his train of thought, Hyunjin snorts up at him. “Yeah, Jisung,” he jeers, panting hard in his recovery from Jisung’s tickles. “Not everyone needs to see you shirtless.”

His eyes narrow into a glare. Slamming a hand against the other’s chest, he hisses, “Don’t act like this isn’t the highlight of your day. You practically ambushed me as soon as I came out of the shower – “

“You _liar_ , you’re the one who tackled me – “

“Literally lounging on my bed like it was made for you – “

“Best thing this bed’s ever seen and you _know it_ – “

Felix cuts them off with a loud whimper. “God,” he cries out, moving his hands to cover his ears. His eyes are still clamped shut. “Can you not do this? I’m literally right in the room guys. Have a little sympathy.”

Jisung cuts his (incredibly witty) retort off before he can land the shot. Though Felix’s reaction seems a little excessive to him – it’s not like he hasn’t seen countless arguments between Hyunjin and Jisung over the years, many a lot worse than a mere tickle fight and some bickering – he’s a good best friend and can hold back just for him. He’s just thoughtful like that.

“I came in here because I heard Hyunjin’s voice,” Felix continues. “And I got his text about waiting for me in our flat. I didn’t ask to walk in on you two again.”

“It’s his fault – “

“It’s not my fault and you know it,” Hyunjin shoots back. He throws his head back, still in the middle of catching his breath. “Sorry, Lix, we just kind of got caught up in everything. I’ll be in your room in a minute, just let me get my breath back. This bastard here took it all out of me.”

Felix whimpers again.

Hyunjin shares a bewildered look with Jisung. He can only shrug, as confused as the other at their friend’s odd behaviour, just like they were last time. Nevertheless, he still lands a soft punch on Hyunjin’s shoulder in defence of Felix and in retribution for whatever Hyunjin’s done to make him sound like a squashed puppy.

“You gonna get off me anytime soon?” Hyunjin replies with a scowl.

“No.”

Ignoring him, Hyunjin unceremoniously shoves him off and rolls out of bed. As he brushes past Felix, he taps him on his shoulder to prompt him to open his eyes and then heads for his room. Just before he disappears from view, he waves the Paprika Pringles in the air like the smug bastard he is and throws Jisung a smirk.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” he calls.

“Go fuck yourself,” Jisung throws back.

He sinks back onto his pillows with a huff, angrily crossing his arms. Damn Hwang Hyunjin and his titanium grip. How dare he use it to steal things that belong to _him?_ And just how the hell does he even know where Jisung hides his snacks? He’s been living here less than a couple of months, no one should know such deep, dark secrets.

Scowling, he meets Felix’s eyes.

“Can you believe him?” he seethes. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”

For some reason, Felix just looks even more uncomfortable. “You two are honestly so… You know what, I’m not even going to ask. I’ll catch you later. Please stick on a shirt sometime before then.”

“What – it’s not like I’m atrocious! I have abs, you know! Girls would love me if they knew that.”

“I know you do. I’ve seen them. And apparently Hyunjin has too. Along with God knows what else, but we don’t need to linger on that, so I’ll leave you to it.”

And with that cryptic set of words, he leaves the room.

Jisung ponders over what Felix could’ve meant for all of five seconds before he shrugs it off, figuring it’s nothing important. Life is too short to worry over such frivolous things, especially when he has the deadline for the first assessed assignment in his Song-Writing in the Studio unit coming up soon. And an entire season of _Haikyuu_ to binge-watch in the name of procrastinating on said assignment. As is evident, he’s a hard-working man. Very booked and busy.

He doesn’t think about it again until later that week when they’re at Chan’s house. Technically, it’s not just Chan’s house – Minho and Changbin also live there along with five other guys, most of them final year students – but everyone calls it Chan’s house. (Unless there’s a party being thrown; at that point it becomes BamBam’s house since he’s pretty notorious for organising them).

Either way, Chan’s house has become their group’s unofficial hangout since it’s where most of them are based now. With most of the gang in university – all except Jeongin, who complains about this on a semi-regular basis in between bouts of claiming not to miss any of them – they’ve decided to make their monthly dinners twice as frequent. It’s much easier to see each other without the length of a train journey splintering the group in half. So every two weeks, they meet up at Chan’s house to grab food together (mostly takeaway since none of them can cook particularly well) just to set aside some time to see each other within the hectic bustle of the school week.

This time around, they’ve ordered some Chinese from down the road after shooting down Seungmin’s offer to cook some ramen. Once they’ve ate their fill, the kitchen swelling with the sound of the eight boys’ laughter and light-hearted bickering, Jisung is somehow roped into washing the dishes with Chan, and it is then that he recalls Felix’s odd behaviour.

“So,” Chan says, stretching out the word as he scrapes some chow mein off one of the plates, angling it towards the open mouth of the food bin. “I hear you and Hyunjin are getting along.”

Out of habit, Jisung rolls his eyes as soon as he hears the other boy’s name. Maybe the two of them were fairly civil at dinner tonight – it’s not like it’s _impossible_ for them to be in the same room without bickering, just really fucking difficult – but he wouldn’t say they’re getting along.

“Yeah whatever,” he says dismissively. “He’s still irritating. Did I tell you that he stole my Pringles the other day? Just walked into my room like he owned the place and took them. Who does he think he is?”

“You’ve texted me about it every day since it happened,” Chan says.

“It’s because I keep reaching for them when I’m hungry and then remembering they’ve been stolen. Paprika Pringles, hyung! They were _Paprika Pringles._ How dare he steal such a thing from me?”

Chan gives him a familiar look; half-bewildered at Jisung’s dramatics and half-pained at the fact that he has to deal with them. He opens his mouth, hesitates and then closes it again.

Then, with the manner of someone gathering all their mental strength, he ventures, “Listen, I know you and Hyunjin have always had… your own little dynamic since we were kids and we’ve all respected that you two know what you’re doing. And I’m not going to get involved now, but – “

“I mean, if you getting involved means he doesn’t steal any more of my snacks, then feel free to get as involved as you want,” Jisung interjects.

The pained look intensifies.

Personally, Jisung thinks this is rather unjustified since Chan is the one who brought this topic up. He would’ve been completely fine to discuss his assignment and run some suggestions by Chan instead. But it’s the elder who is concerned enough about the Pringles to pull Jisung aside under the pretence of washing the dishes to talk about his friendship with Hyunjin. Which, now that he thinks about it, is really strange considering the fact that he’s lived in the same street as Jisung and Hyunjin for nearly their entire lives, has suffered through thousands of pointless arguments and overdramatic outbursts, and is used to this by now. Or at least, that’s what he claims to be.

So if anything, Chan only has himself to thank for his pain.

“This isn’t about the Pringles.”

Jisung rinses the suds off a chipped Star Wars mug. “Really? Then what the hell are you talking about?”

Chan merely looks at him.

When all he can offer is a baffled look in return, he repeats slowly, “Like I said… when it comes to you and Hyunjin, I’m not going to get involved, but…” He reads Jisung’s growing confusion and sighs before saying bluntly, “It’s a dance studio, Jisung. Treat it like one. Literally anyone can just walk in.”

_Dance studio? What?_

It takes a few moments for Jisung to make the jump. When he does, he lets out a little laugh. “Oh that? I forgot about all that. I’m guessing Felix spoke to you then?”

He recalls Felix’s spluttering, the fierce red blush glowing under his freckles and the way he ran out of the studio. He probably should’ve guessed that Felix would’ve told Chan about Hyunjin and Jisung wrestling; he does tend to go to him with things that trouble him if Jisung isn’t an option for whatever reason, kind of like how Jisung often turns to Minho for advice. Suddenly, the conversation makes much more sense.

Chan nods and offers a smile that can only be described as awkward. “Yeah, he was a bit – caught off-guard, I guess you could say. To be honest, Jisungie, anyone would be if they’d walked in. Remember what I said: it’s a public dance studio and anyone from the university can access it. They probably even have cameras in there! Keep that in mind for the future.”

“Yeah, I get you,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, hyung, I just couldn’t help it. I see Hyunjin and I just have to tackle him, it’s – “

Chan makes an odd choking sound and hurriedly cuts across, “Yes, yes, I get that and – and I _respect_ that, but – not in a studio, Jisungie, okay? That’s all I’m saying.”

“I mean, it was empty aside from us. It’s not like anyone else was there, you know? So we weren’t really disturbing anyone until Felix walked in. And besides, we’ve done it in more public places in the past, so – “ When Chan starts to choke on air again, Jisung breaks off and moves towards him, one wet hand rising to hit his back. “Fucking hell hyung, are you having an allergic reaction to something you ate? What’s with the constant coughing?”

Ducking away from Jisung’s outstretched hand, Chan scrambles towards the door. “Holy shit, I can’t have this conversation anymore. I’m just – I’m gonna go to the living room, I…”

“But – hyung, the dishes – ”

“Forget about the dishes, I’ll just get Changbin to do them later. Let’s just – forget this conversation ever happened.”

He all but throws himself into the hallway, disappearing from view. Jisung is left alone in the kitchen to stare at the space he occupied only moments earlier, feeling more confused than ever.

The confusion spans the rest of the following week. For some reason, the oddity of Felix and Chan’s behaviour only grows stronger whenever Jisung and Hyunjin are in their presence at the same time. Every time their bickering grows particularly passionate and they start to square up to each other half-threateningly, Chan is quick to jump in between them with a loud, awkward _okayyyyyy_ where before he would just fix them with a Look to get them to shut up. Meanwhile, Felix seems to be determined to cosplay as a cherry tomato at any given point of their interactions.

(Jisung does try to ask him what’s going on, only to have the younger mutter something along the lines of wanting to yeet himself away from this conversation and then zoom off with some poor excuse. So there’s that.)

A conversation with Hyunjin – read: _confrontation_ since Jisung corners him in a lift at uni and accuses him of being the sole cause of whatever has possessed their friends – leads him to discover that even Changbin seems to be in on the madness. Apparently, he keeps texting Hyunjin cryptic messages about how he’ll always be there for him if he needs it and how, though Changbin trusts his judgement and is happy for him, Hyunjin should still make an effort to be careful.

“Careful? Careful how?” Jisung echoes.

Hyunjin shrugs. “Hell if I know. I asked him, but he didn’t reply. Now can you get your clammy as fuck hand off my arm and let me go?”

In response, Jisung slams both of his hands on Hyunjin’s cheeks. “What did you say? You want my clammy hands all over you? Well, okay then!”

Squealing, Hyunjin tries to wrestle Jisung’s hands away from his face, plastering himself against the wall of the lift. Purely to spite him, Jisung presses forward even more and coos obnoxiously, fingers now pinching his cheeks. He smacks his lips together like a grandma about to land a fat, juicy kiss on a horrified infant, straining to reach the other boy. His lips catch on Hyunjin’s chin just as the lift doors slide open.

“What on earth are you two doing?” Seungmin says flatly.

Jisung spins around at the intrusion. Having overestimated the energy needed, he finds himself stumbling back, landing heavily against Hyunjin who grunts but makes no move to shove him away, instead rubbing at the redness in his cheeks.

“Oh hey, Seungmin,” Jisung says, throwing him a little wave. “Don’t mind me, I was just busy being the light of Hyunjin’s day.”

Seungmin raises his eyebrows, gaze flitting between them in slight confusion. Heart sinking, Jisung can already tell that he’s about to follow in Felix and Chan’s footsteps and start behaving weird around them – honestly, he should be a professional clairvoyant or something, he has _skills_ – so he pulls on a wide smile and decides that he’s getting off here. Really, his classroom is another three floors higher, but he can’t be bothered having another one of their friends act strange and cause him to overthink his behaviour.

“Well, I’ll be off now,” he announces brightly and moves towards the lift doors.

Or, at least he tries to.

Hyunjin’s hand clamps down on his wrist, tethering him to the spot before he can take more than one step. He meets Jisung’s responding scowl with a deliberately weighted stare. “No, you’re not. Your class is on the seventh floor.”

Literally how the fuck does he know that.

“I’ll take the stairs,” he says. “I need to get more exercise in. Or not,” he amends as Hyunjin roughly yanks him back to his side and the doors slide shut.

He turns to demand what the hell Hyunjin’s problem is, but the sight of him says it all, really. The way he folds into himself as if to appear as small and as innocuous as possible, wedged into the corner of the lift furthest from Seungmin. The way his eyes are very purposefully trained to a dried piece of chewing gum on the floor. The way his fingers are tight around Jisung’s wrist, fixing him in a position that angles him in between Hyunjin and his ex-boyfriend.

Jisung drags his eyes away from the boy to look over at Seungmin, only to find him already looking right at them, the planes of his face unreadable.

 _Wow_ is this awkward.

Sure, Hyunjin and Seungmin might be fine whenever they’re in a huge group, but if this is how they are when they’re left alone together, Jisung doesn’t even want to know how bad things must be in their dorm when their flatmates aren’t around. It must suck enormously to have the university stick you in the same flat as your ex. Granted, they’re the ones who requested for it, but that was nearly a year earlier when Seungmin and Hyunjin were still together and they _all_ requested to be roomed together. It was just their shit luck that these two happened to be paired with the one person they no longer wanted to live with.

Hell, even Hyunjin and Jisung living together would’ve been a better situation – and that’s _saying_ something.

Mere seconds pass before Jisung can’t take it anymore and bursts out with a, “So, how are you liking the weather today, folks?” at a volume that’s far too loud for such a small space. He winces.

Seungmin raises his eyebrows again, this time as if to ask whether Jisung is a complete idiot. Behind him, Hyunjin voices that very sentiment, adding in a murmur, “Very smooth, Han.”

He shoots him a glare. “Listen, you little – “

“Oh, wow, it’s our floor,” Hyunjin cuts across him loudly.

He barely gives Jisung a chance to register what’s going on before his hand slips into his and he drags them out of the lift, practically squeezing them through the narrow opening of the doors as they begin to slowly slide apart. His long legs eat up the length of the corridor so quickly that Jisung has to practically run to keep up with him, hand nearly slipping from Hyunjin’s grasp if not for the titanium lock he has on his palm.

They stumble to a stop outside of Jisung’s class.

Through his pants, Jisung manages another glare. “And you thought _I_ wasn’t smooth? Who the fuck did you think you were just then, Usain Bolt? Fucking hell, if we moved any faster, we would’ve been quicker than the speed of light.”

“We didn’t even walk that fast,” Hyunjin says dismissively. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Maybe if you let me walk up the stairs, I wouldn’t be.”

“At the state you’re in just from walking down a corridor, you’d probably have collapsed after the third step. Let’s be real, I did you a favour by keeping you with me.”

“You mean, you did yourself a favour,” Jisung says with a pointed look at their entwined hands. Hyunjin lets go as if he’s been scalded, wiping his palm on the fabric of his jeans. “Using me as your barrier against Seungmin. You owe me for suffering through that, dickface. Most awkward experience of my life.”

Hyunjin flushes a deep red. “Shut up and go to your lesson,” he hisses before he turns swiftly on his heel and heads off to his own.

Unable to stop himself, Jisung calls out obnoxiously, “Thanks for walking me to class, babe. I really appreciate it.”

Hyunjin flips him off.

Thursday afternoon puts Jisung in a popular coffee shop just off-campus, grimacing none too discreetly at the busyness and bustle of the establishment. Students crowd around every table and spill from every booth, their chatter scattered between their laptops and lattes as they cheerily complain about their lectures. Something about it scratches at Jisung’s skin the wrong way, makes him want to shed it entirely, but he swallows the feeling down. Focuses on the boy opposite him; the easy drawl of his speech, the way his foot knocks into Jisung’s under the table in a silent gesture of comfort.

Minho locks his phone after showing off the photos his mum sent him of his cats and takes a long sip of his iced americano.

“So,” he says leisurely. “Anything new going on with you?”

“No, not really,” Jisung says. Living a mostly sedentary lifestyle means that there are very few things of note that happen to him although that suits him just fine. “Actually, I’ve gotten most of my assignment for Song-Writing out of the way. I couldn’t sleep the other day and figured it was more worthwhile trying to get it done instead of watching TikTok compilations all night like I did last time.”

“I hate you,” Minho says flatly.

“The whole point is that you’re meant to cringe! I’m not _actually_ interested in them. Hyung, I’ve _told_ you this before.”

“Alright TikTokLover786, I’ll try and believe you.”

Jisung pushes his lower lip out in a petulant pout and pulls on his most reproachful look. It is met with a stony silence before Minho sighs and pushes his pecan brownie across the table in a reluctant apology. Grinning with triumph, Jisung eagerly shoves half of it into his mouth in one go.

“You’re disgusting,” Minho informs him before continuing, “Why did it take you so long to do your assignment anyways? Aren’t you always writing songs? It should’ve been a walk in the park for you.”

He makes a face.

People always tend to think like that. Like if Jisung can fill entire notebooks with the lyrics and melodies that bounce around his head at any given point during the day, he can easily churn one out when demanded to. To be fair, it’s a valid assumption and it’s not like Minho is being deliberately obtuse with his questions. But how can he explain how words seem to flow from his fingertips when he’s just writing for himself, but refuse to leave his brain when there’s a grade attached to them?

“I can’t… It’s different,” he says, frowning around the bite of brownie that balloons his cheeks. “When I’m writing for myself, I don’t have anyone to impress. I’m just writing for me. It can be shit because no one else will see it, even if it means I end up looking back at it and wanting to burn the paper for reminding me that I actually wrote that. But when it’s going to be graded, it kind of – takes the authenticity out of it? If that makes sense? Like I’m not writing for me, I’m writing to get an A. Kills the creativity a bit. You know what I mean?”

Minho nods understandingly.

“Also,” Jisung continues, now on a roll, “the assignment had, like, a _theme_ to it. We had to write about grief. How am I meant to write a song about grief? I’ve never lost anybody. I’ve never even had a fucking pet goldfish _to_ lose, never mind a person.”

“Good,” Minho replies forcefully. “It’s inhumane to keep a goldfish in such a small space. Capitalism has convinced people otherwise so we’re mindlessly killing them just to satisfy our own desires and feed the pockets of people selling them. Meanwhile, everyone perpetuates blatantly false information to cover up our sins and ensure the cycle continues. Be glad you’ve never killed a pet goldfish, Jisung. Be _very glad._ ”

Alarmed, Jisung raises his hands in surrender. “Damn, I never said I wasn’t? I was just pointing out the lack of grief in my life?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Minho sighs. “I just get really worked up about this kind of thing. Would dropkick any motherfucker for an animal in a heartbeat.” Jisung knows this and loves him for it. “Anyways, what did you end up doing for the song?”

“Something about growing up and grieving the death of youth, poetic shit like that.”

Minho lets out a low whistle. “That’s deep.”

“As deep as your speech about the mistreatment of goldfish?”

“Make fun of the fish one more time and I’ll reach down your throat to yank my brownie back out of you. Don’t test me, bitch.”

Laughing, Jisung throws up his hands in surrender once again and exaggeratedly leans out of harm’s way. As seriously as Minho delivers his threats, he can’t help but feel the familiar warmth of the helpless endearment the older usually evokes in him. He’s known Minho for as long as his memory stretches back, having lived next door to him since he was first brought home from the hospital. For as long as he’s remembered, Minho has been a constant bright spot in his life albeit one whose affection has to be reluctantly wrestled out of him.

It’s just always been Minho, you know?

Sure, Chan has been around for just as long too – although back when they were kids, his charismatic personality and the way he could draw almost anyone to him used to unnerve shy little Jisung. Instead, he preferred to seek comfort in chasing after Minho’s cats with their owner while Chan held court with all the neighbourhood kids. And yeah, Hyunjin also came into the picture when he moved into the house across the street at four years old and then Seungmin followed suit when they started attending school proper. And sure, he found his same-age best friend in Felix when he arrived with his freckles and hesitant, heavily-accented Korean in high school and he ended up befriending Changbin and Jeongin along the way too.

But he can’t deny his soft spot for the boy sitting opposite him. Even when he’s doing something stupid like tipping back the ice in his drained cup and letting it rest on his tongue for as long as possible despite screwing his eyes shut from the brain freeze.

 _Especially_ then.

“This is awful,” Minho despairs.

“Good,” Jisung says and takes a video for his Snapchat story.

Even through the brain freeze, Minho manages a perfectly dismissive glare as he flips off the camera. When he’s managed to melt most of the ice away, he asks, “Is finishing off the assignment really all that’s new in your life? No new friends to report on? Or hot dates?” He adds with a devilish smirk.

Jisung doesn’t even look away from adding several stickers to his video of Minho suffering. “Those both require social interaction and leaving my bed for anything other than my lectures or the studio.”

“So that’s a no, then?”

“What do you think?” he snorts.

He adds the Snap to his story with a satisfied hum and locks his phone, putting it back down on the table. Minho watches him with careful eyes. When Jisung meets them, his studious expression smooths out into a smile and he leans over to tweak Jisung’s nose.

“Ah, my little Jisungie,” he says affectionately. “Always so innocent. Never change.”

He scrunches his nose up under the assault. “It’s not so much innocence as laziness – “ And the paralysing fear of being unlovable underneath all the bravado. “ – but okay. Now let go of my nose before I sneeze all over your hand.”

Minho snatches his hand back before he even finishes the sentence and Jisung just laughs and laughs.

A few hours before everyone is expected to make their way over to Chan’s house, several pictures spam the group chat of Minho in the supermarket, posing with various vegetables and pastas. As Jisung squints at them under the cover of his duvet, a new one is sent in, this time of the groceries laid out on their kitchen table and Minho brandishing a huge knife with a beam. He’s never seen anything more terrifying in his life and says so.

**> Seungmin in the building**

_ew ur not cooking r u???_

**> Innie Innie~**

_omg pls tell me this is a prank or smth i would like to live to see 18_

**> Minho-hyung ** **♡**

_say one more word and i stg i will fry your food in rat poison_

**> Seungmin in the building**

_that means he’s cooking_

_suddenly im v ill and will not be able to make it today, sry for cancelling so last-min :///_

**> Minho-hyung ** **♡**

_aw then i’ll just come over with some chicken soup made just for you <33_

**> Seungmin in the building**

_o wait looks like the fever’s passed, silly me_

**> Minho-hyung ** **♡**

_glad to hear it :)_

**> Dickface**

_i can help u cook hyung!!! two hands are better than one!!!!_

**< Me**

_yea but u cant cook for shit_

**> Dickface**

_i will fucking spit in ur food and make u eat it_

**< Me**

_ooh how Kinky of u_

**> Lixie Pixie~**

_Okaaaaay_

_Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here_

**> CB97 ** **🤙**

_^^^^_

_(also i’ll be helping minho cook so we don’t get food poisoning, but you can still come if you’d like hyunjinnie)_

**> Dickface**

_okay!!! ^.^ will be there in less than an hour~_

**< Me**

_i’ll be there in about 5, i want to make sure i’ve finished off haikyuu before i die tonight_

**> Minho-hyung ** **♡**

_well someone's definitely going to die tonight if you all carry on insulting my cooking dickheads_

**< Me**

_haha luv u hyung~~_

Despite their teasing on the group chat, the smell of whatever’s cooking on the stove when Jisung enters Chan’s house hours later actually isn’t half-bad. He follows it to the kitchen to find everyone else already there, messing about while Chan half-heartedly attempts to shepherd them into setting the table. It’s not a very successful effort considering Felix is currently attempting to balance all the plates on his arms like a waiter; even as Jisung watches, one of the plates slides off and it’s only Changbin’s reflexes that stop it from shattering into pieces on the floor.

Deciding not to join in on the madness just yet, Jisung drifts over to the cooker where Minho stirs the pot, Hyunjin hovering behind his shoulder to watch, enraptured.

“This actually smells good, hyung,” he comments by way of greeting. “I’m surprised.”

Minho turns to give him a smug smirk. “What can I say? Never underestimate my abilities. But just so you know, even if it turns out to taste like someone’s unwashed arse, I’m calling in our blood pact.”

“I expected as much,” he sighs.

Little did six year old Jisung know what he was signing up for when he let Minho give him a papercut so they could seal their friendship and loyalty to each other with a blood-bound promise. Don’t even ask how the idea came to Minho; he’s always been a little weird and Jisung has always been willing to go along with his dumb schemes regardless. If he knew he’d have to suffer through Minho’s failed attempts at cooking, however, he might not have been so eager to indulge him.

Jisung glances over at Hyunjin, who keeps his eyes on the pasta, dark brows furrowed above them in determination. His concentration hardly wavers, not even when Jisung taunts, “I see you didn’t manage to set the kitchen on fire this time.”

“I meant it when I said that I’ll spit in your food.”

“Good, I like things like that,” he shoots back just for the sake of returning the retort.

That gets Hyunjin’s attention, at least for the time it takes him to send Jisung a revolted look. He returns his focus to the food a heartbeat later.

Realising there’s nothing more to gain from the interaction, Jisung slips away from their side to the chaos on the other end of the kitchen. In the short time that he’s spent talking Minho and Hyunjin, Seungmin has spilled grains of black pepper everywhere after trying to use his pop-socket to spin his phone on top of the shaker and Jeongin has somehow managed to drop half a pitcher of water onto Chan’s left leg.

Chan doesn’t even look mad, merely defeated. He looks down at the huge wet stain on his cargo pants and sighs, “Remind me why I ever befriended any of you guys again?”

“Our dazzling personalities?” Felix suggests.

“Our incredible wit?” Jisung joins in.

He pinches his nose and sighs again. “I think I must just hate myself.”

“Well alright then,” Jeongin says, raising his eyebrows. The metal glint of his braces flash under the lights as his mouth widens into a cheeky grin. “I came here out of the goodness of my heart to do something for the community and spend time with the elderly, but I see how it is.”

“Get out of my house, brat.”

“Don’t tell me what to do when you look like you’ve pissed yourself, hag,” he retorts.

Chan snatches up the object nearest to him – a small fork with pink polka dots on the handle – and advances towards him threateningly. Their maknae shrieks in delight, darting out of reach behind Seungmin, who humours the disruption with nothing more than a fond smile.

The kitchen erupts with even more sound as Chan gives chase and Jeongin responds by dragging his human shield Seungmin in between them, still throwing out taunts through his amusement, and the rest of them cheer them on. Jisung leaps onto a chair and starts to narrate their struggles for everyone in Felix’s Snapchat contact list, putting on his most pompous show-host impression. Over the din, Minho starts to wave a spatula around and yell about how the pasta’s done.

It’s loud and chaotic – the sort of thing that would usually set Jisung’s teeth on edge, make him want to escape for a breath of fresh air outside, but these are his dearest friends in life and so he can’t help but love it. Even if they _do_ die tonight from food poisoning, at least he’ll die happy.

They finally manage to settle down, elbows knocking into each other as they crowd around a table that’s meant for a group half their size, and plates heaped high. Seungmin makes a show of poking the pasta dubiously, only to have Minho smack the back of his head with a dishrag.

“It tastes _great_ ,” the cook insists. “Never doubt me.”

“It tastes like someone’s emptied half the salt in Korea in it,” Changbin corrects around his first mouthful of food. Even as he says this, he shoves another large forkful into his mouth.

Hyunjin winces. “That… might’ve been my fault. I didn’t realise Minho-hyung had already put some in.”

“Wait, Minho already added salt to it?” Chan stills, eyes blown wide. “ _I_ added salt to it.”

They all stare at the pasta in horror.

Then Jisung shrugs and lifts a forkful to his mouth. “Eh, who cares? Food’s food, doesn’t matter if Hyunjin messed it up.”

Glaring from across the table, Hyunjin kicks his shin.

“Don’t be mean, it wasn’t just Hyunjin who messed it up,” Changbin says, but Jisung isn’t really paying attention to him.

He’s too busy weaving his foot through the tangle of legs underneath the table, his toe skimming along the zips at the bottom of Hyunjin’s joggers to confirm that it’s him – before he pulls back and kicks his leg as hard as he can. From the waist up, no one would suspect anything is going on. All Hyunjin does is let out a low hiss which he answers with a simpering smile and another leisurely bite of his pasta.

Hyunjin responds with another kick. Once again, he makes to return the gesture, but then Hyunjin’s ankles shift and trap his foot between the two, pulling it so sharply that Jisung jerks down his seat with a start. He lets out a muffled squeal around his food. When Felix startles in confusion, he manages a casual smile.

“Don’t mind me, I just underestimated how salty the food is.”

“Remember the blood pact,” Minho calls warningly.

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

Jisung dismisses him with a wave, returning to his silent battle with Hyunjin. The other boy sends him a smug look before he lets his ankles fall away, but Jisung refuses to retreat and let him win. That would be _far_ too mature for him. When it comes to Hwang Hyunjin, he has a spotless track record of being petty as fuck and he is loath to let go of that now.

Instead of retaliating with a kick, however, he opts for a different route. The sole of his foot brushes along Hyunjin’s ankle, the cool touch barely there, before it travels up, slipping under the cuff of his joggers. He runs his foot up and down Hyunjin’s bare skin, a silent tease. All the while, Jisung maintains steady eye contact with him, eyebrow cocked just slightly in a challenge. Hyunjin looks back, his face carved from stone, but stubbornly stays in place.

“You guys need a bigger table, this one isn’t big enough,” Jeongin complains, wincing as he struggles to angle his arm over Seungmin’s shoulder. “I can barely reach my food.”

“Are you going to pay for it?” Minho asks.

“The fuck would I do that, do I look like I live here?”

“Innie, don’t swear,” Chan reprimands.

Jeongin promptly ignores this when his fork clatters to the floor a moment later and he lets loose a loud string of curses. He pushes his chair back and ducks down, ranting about how he doesn’t deserve to pay for an entire train journey here just to eat his entire salt intake for the year at a table that’s barely three centimetres long and –

“EW, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE _LITERAL FUCK – “_

Jerking up so quickly he slams his head on the underside of the table, Jeongin scrambles to a standing position and raises a shaking finger, eyes wild as they swivel around.

“Innie, what on earth – “

“What are you two _doing?”_ he shrieks so loudly that he nearly breaks the sound barrier. He points his finger at Hyunjin and Jisung accusingly. “Why are you two playing footsie under the table, you sick freaks?”

For a moment, no one moves.

Then, the kitchen erupts with the sound of chairs screeching back and Jisung panics, trying to jerk his foot out from under Hyunjin’s joggers, only to have it trapped when Hyunjin tries to pull his leg back at the same time. He doesn’t even know _why_ he’s panicking so hard, just knows that the weight of everyone’s looks is so odd and heavy that he really doesn’t want to get caught with his feet entangled with Hyunjin’s even though they’re not even _doing_ anything suggestive. He manages to free his foot after a few moments of frantic struggling, but there’s no point.

Their friends have seen and apparently made their minds up about what’s going on because Chan sets down his glass of water in a very dramatic manner and declares, “Okay, that’s it. I didn’t want to do this, but we have to discuss the elephant in the room.”

Jisung doesn’t even know _what_ the elephant in the room is and really doesn’t want to find out.

“I really don’t think we – “

“Jisung, Hyunjin,” Chan interrupts, his voice so authoritative that Jisung shuts up straight away. “I’ve already told you that I’m not going to get involved in your business, but there comes a point where it just becomes disrespectful.”

“We’re not – “

“I know you don’t mean to be, Hyunjin. But we’re not stupid, alright? We can see what’s going on here. And I guess I understand wanting to keep it a secret for whatever reasons you might have, but then you go and bait what’s going on underneath our very noses or in public places and it’s just – I just – you can’t just do that and _not_ expect us to say anything, okay? Like. You can admit to it now. We all know that you’re dating.”

_What the fuck._

Jisung catches Hyunjin’s eye in bewilderment and is glad to see the other is just as confused as he is. “Hyung, I don’t know what you’ve been eating, but – “

Chan raises his hand. “Don’t try to deny it, Jisungie. You’ve been all over each other recently and we’ve all more or less seen it happen.”

Once again: what the fuck?

“I haven’t,” Jeongin says despairingly. “At least, not until now. And I wish I hadn’t. God, the thought of two hags flirting makes me sick.”

“Seen _what_ happen?” Jisung exclaims. “Nothing’s happened!”

“I’ve literally walked in on you straddling Hyunjin at least two times,” Felix says flatly. “You were even half-naked once.”

“He was stealing my Pringles!”

“You seemed suspiciously happy for someone whose Pringles were supposedly being stolen.”

 _In what world?_ Jisung wants to scream. He knows for a fact that he went on about those damn Paprika Pringles so much that he ended up annoying even himself. It got to the point where his flatmate Jongho stormed into his room one evening, slammed two cans of them onto his desk and sang at him to shut the fuck up. He’s still not sure why Jongho decided to belt out the demand like an opera singer, but he was honestly too scared to ask at the time. Frankly, he’s not sure he wants to know.

The others start to chime in with their agreement, pointing out various bits of evidence they’ve supposedly collected over the past few weeks. Hyunjin remembering Jisung’s timetable better than Felix, his own flatmate and best friend, does; Jisung knowing the pin to Hyunjin’s phone; Hyunjin knowing where Jisung’s secret stash of snacks is hidden; Jisung admitting to Chan that he can’t help but jump on Hyunjin whenever he sees him.

Never mind the fact that all these things can be explained if they actually used _logic._

Hyunjin knows his timetable because he has everyone’s timetables saved to his phone since he’s the kind of freak who likes meeting up with people as much as possible. Jisung knows the pin to Hyunjin’s phone because it’s just the reverse of the date he adopted Kkami and he likes to go on it to spam his camera album with the same selfie taken sixty times. He thought that Chan was talking about how he keeps _fighting_ with Hyunjin whenever he sees him, not fucking him. As for the secret stash of snacks – well, actually, even Jisung doesn’t know how Hyunjin figured that one out.

The point is that everyone has it all _wrong._

He opens his mouth to tell them as such when Seungmin speaks for the first time since Jeongin stood up with his overdramatic yell. It’s nothing too elaborate, just a soft sentence – but it somehow carries all the weight in the world.

“I saw the two of you kissing in the lift the other day.”

Jisung’s jaw drops.

So does everyone else’s.

“I – “ he splutters. “That’s not even – “

 _That’s not even what happened_ is what he intends to say. He was just messing around and annoying Hyunjin, not legitimately kissing the guy! It was the kiss of a grandma! It landed on the guy’s chin, for god’s sake.

But then Hyunjin says, “Okay, fine. You’ve caught us. We’re dating.”

And Jisung’s jaw drops again.

“No, we’re not,” he says vehemently.

Hyunjin faces him with an odd smile. It’s soft at the edges, coloured with a faint fondness that has never once been directed at him before, and a little embarrassed. But his eyes remain flat, meeting his intently. “There’s no point trying to hide anymore, Jisung. We were too sloppy. We might as well just admit to it now instead of dragging this on for longer.”

Anger starts to bleed into Jisung’s vision.

Literally what the fuck is Hyunjin playing at? He _knows_ they’re not dating and that their friends have gotten it all wrong somehow. He knows that the two of them are as compatible as a scorching sun and the winter snow, that the last person in the world either of them would date is each other. He knows that their friends have taken their behaviour and twisted it to fit a narrative that they’ve imposed on them, have tricked themselves into seeing ties that do not exist and never have. So why the hell is he humouring them?

“I’m not going to admit to anything,” he says indignantly.

He stands up in the beginnings of a blind rage, ready to square up, and Hyunjin quickly follows suit, reaching over to wrap his long fingers around Jisung’s wrist. Smiling thinly at their now silent friends, he murmurs something about being excused for a minute and then drags Jisung out through the back door and into the garden. He only stops when they’re at the far fence, their backs to the house.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jisung demands, rounding on him with a snarl.

Hyunjin shifts so that their faces are hidden from view. “Oh come off it, they were never going to believe us. I saved us the trouble of arguing with them.”

“They would’ve believed us if you’d let me argue with them in the first place! Now you’ve gone and said that we’re dating, even though we’re _not_ , and they’re going to read all sorts of things into us.”

“Good.”

Jisung falters in the middle of his rant. Is he hearing things or did Hyunjin actually just claim that this is a good thing? Nothing short of incredulous, he can only stare at the other, wondering just what the hell has possessed him. Hyunjin meets the look with the same intentness from inside the kitchen… And the same intentness from when they were in the lift the other day.

Realisation dawns on him. “This is about Seungmin, isn’t it?”

For the first time, Hyunjin’s façade cracks and he fidgets uncomfortably, eyes skittering away from him. His fingers, still wrapped around Jisung’s wrist, flex. “Maybe.”

“Don’t _maybe_ me. At least admit to it, you dickhead, since you’re so obsessed with dragging me into whatever the fuck is going on between you two.”

“Nothing’s _going on_ between us,” he says sharply. “The whole _point_ is that nothing is going on. That’s the way it is and that’s the way it’s going to stay. It’s been months now and I’ve moved on, but… But he’s not going to believe that until he sees proof. So yeah, this is about Seungmin. Are you happy now?”

“What the fuck? Of course, I’m not, you actual dumbass, I don’t want people to think we’re dating!”

“Please, like I’m not miles out of your league,” Hyunjin says scathingly.

He doesn’t even humour that with a reply, just tears Hyunjin’s hand from his wrist and starts to storm back inside, his face like thunder. In the split-second he spares for the house, he spots all six of their idiotic friends crowded up against the kitchen window, noses pressed to the glass as they spy on them.

And then Hyunjin catches up to him and spins him away from the view, hands on his shoulders. He bends his head until their foreheads are almost pressed against each other; when Jisung tries to pull away, he moves one hand to the back of his head to secure it.

“Okay, I shouldn’t have said that,” he starts.

Jisung sends him the ugliest scowl in his arsenal. “Let me go before I rip your balls off, Hwang Hyunjin. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“Look if we do this, it won’t just be me who benefits from it,” he says quickly. “We both have something to gain from letting them think that we’re dating for a while. Not long, just enough to get the message through.”

The statement throws Jisung so off-guard that he forgets to rearrange Hyunjin’s guts like his fingers itch to do. “How the fuck does this benefit me in any way?”

Hyunjin shifts, looking somewhat nervous. “If I let you go, will you promise to hear me out without shouting or hurting me?”

“No.”

“Jisung, please. Just hear me out.”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. What he _should_ do is march right back into the kitchen, tell their friends that everyone has lost their minds because there’s no way in hell he would date Hwang Hyunjin of all people, and finish off that goddamn salty pasta. He should feed his anger, lash out at the boy in front of him in the way that’s so familiar to him after fifteen years of the same old thing. He most certainly shouldn’t grit his teeth, give into the stupid curiosity filtering through his anger, and spit out a venomous _fine._

Apparently, Jisung does a lot of things he shouldn’t do.

“This better be good,” he adds, folding his arms across his chest as soon as Hyunjin steps back just far enough for him to do so.

“I…” Hyunjin hesitates, fingers drifting down to play with the edge of his t-shirt the way he’s always done whenever he’s particularly nervous. The fingernail of his middle finger starts to scratch at the stitching of the hem. “So, you know how Seungmin and I broke up just before exams and then pretty much didn’t talk all summer?”

The entire _world_ knows when Seungmin and Hyunjin broke up. Literally no one stopped talking about it in school for days after the news broke. They were the sort of couple that just _made sense_ , that no one was surprised about once they finally came together. So visibly sweet and taken with each other that people didn’t even have the heart to ask them to tone it down a notch around them.

No one really knows when that changed. That is, until Hyunjin and Seungmin suddenly announced that not only were they no longer together but that the split had been messy. It got to the point where for the last few weeks of their high school career, Jisung, Felix and Jeongin had to split their time equally between the two since they refused to be in the same room as each other. That only changed when university rolled around and Chan put his foot down.

None of that explains why Hyunjin said he’s dating Jisung.

Unless…

“Are you using me to make him jealous?” Jisung asks incredulously.

Hyunjin shoots that down faster than lightning in a storm. “Of course not. It’s just – I’ve heard that Seungmin is… getting asked out by other people.”

“So you want to show him that you are too?”

“ _No!_ It’s not about me, it’s about him. Bomin told me Seungmin mentioned not being comfortable bringing back any dates to the flat since – well, you know, since I live with him. Said that’s why he rejects his dates. I don’t want to be the reason that he’s holding himself back from dating. Like I said, I’ve moved on and I’m over him so I just… I want him to know that. So he doesn’t feel as guilty.”

Oh.

Jisung blinks at him, drinking him in with fresh eyes. Suddenly, Hyunjin doesn’t seem as insufferable and prickly as usual. He just seems like the stupidly soft-hearted boy he’s known all his life.

“You still care about him, don’t you?” he says softly.

“I just said I’ve moved on.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Jisung says. “You’ve moved on from dating him, sure. But even if you can barely be in the same room as him without at least five other people there, you still care about him and want him to be happy.”

Hyunjin drops his eyes to his hands. “He was my best friend before he was my boyfriend,” he whispers. “So yeah, I do.”

Despite his intentions, Jisung can feel his anger dissipate away at that. He’s known Seungmin and Hyunjin for just as long as they’ve known each other, has had front row seats to the development of their friendship, the way their love for each other blossomed and then withered away in a winter that was never expected to arrive. While he ran around after Minho like a lost puppy, Hyunjin and Seungmin stuck together like two peas glued together in a pod; the thought of losing something like that, of being in that position himself, makes him feel ill.

Jisung might not get along with Hyunjin. He might swear on his grave that he hates the guy and take great satisfaction in riling him up. But he’s also soft and emotional and can hardly remember a time where Hyunjin wasn’t in his life.

Clearing the sudden lump in his throat, Jisung gruffly says, “That doesn’t explain how any of this benefits me though. I see why you want to do this, but I don’t see why I should.”

Hyunjin looks up from his hands. “Well, I mean… I thought that was obvious. To make Minho-hyung jealous.”

 _What?_ Jisung’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. At this rate, an airplane could crash-land into the garden and it wouldn’t even be out of place; it’s like everyone is determined to pull the rug out from under him anyways. He splutters for longer than is socially acceptable before he manages to choke out:

“What – why would – that’s not even – why would I want to make him jealous? Why would that be the obvious answer?”

“Because you fancy him.”

“No, I don’t!”

Raising his eyebrows, Hyunjin sends him a flat look. To his credit, it’s not like Jisung is particularly convincing in his denial: his cheeks have flamed a deep red, his fingers tremble slightly, and he can hardly keep his eye contact steady, wavering in the face of Hyunjin’s accusation. He can’t _help_ it, alright? It’s not like he’s admitted this to anyone (except Felix and that was back when they were fourteen).

“Oh, come off it, Jisung,” he says impatiently. “I know you. You’ve had the biggest crush on hyung since we were kids. I don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone _but_ him. Don’t you want to do something about it?”

“I don’t need to stand here and have you accuse me of things that aren’t true. And in any case, even if I _did_ like Minho-hyung like that, pretending to date you wouldn’t help. It’s a stupid idea. All it would do is make me look unavailable.”

“Or,” Hyunjin says, “it would make him realise that you’re on the market in the first place.”

Jisung hates the fact that he stills. He shouldn’t be entertaining any of this. All it does is convince the other that he has Jisung right where he wants him – but, like it or not, Hyunjin _does_ have him where he wants him, has somehow managed to look right through him and find exactly the right thing to say to keep him rooted to the spot.

“You’ve been friends with Minho-hyung ever since you were born,” Hyunjin continues. “It’s always been the two of you. No one would blame you for developing feelings for him, but because you’ve never acted on them, never hinted that there’s a chance the two of you could be something more, he’s only ever seen you as his best friend. So while he’s been off dating people left, right and centre and you’ve just been silently pining for him – “

“If you don’t get to the point, I will actually knock you out,” Jisung interrupts through gritted teeth.

“The point is that you’ve never shown him that you could be more than best friends. Not even indirectly. You’ve never dated anyone, never kissed anyone – “

“I _have_ kissed people.”

“Does he know that?” At Jisung’s silence, Hyunjin pointedly forges on. “You’ve never set yourself up to be a potential romantic interest for _anyone_. You’ve only ever been the best friend. If you pretend that you’re dating me, that all changes. Suddenly, you’re not just Jisungie, the kid that’s ran after him since you could walk; you’re Han Jisung, the guy that’s been there all his life. He just never knew it.”

The picture he paints is tempting enough. The thought of Minho – pretty, older Minho who Jisung has grown up with, has liked for half his life albeit in that distant sort of way where he never legitimately entertained pursuing his feelings – suddenly realising what he failed to see for all these years echoes the daydreams Jisung used to entertain throughout his teenagerhood. Where Jisung is finally seen as a _boy_ instead of just the best friend.

He doesn’t want to be ‘innocent little Jisungie’ anymore. He wants to finally be _more_.

Maybe Hyunjin’s right. Maybe this is the wake-up call this situation needs. Maybe…

“Two months?” Jisung finally asks.

Hyunjin breaks out into a wide smile. It’s as if the sun has broken through the clouds of worry on his face, his eyes bright and crinkled at the edges, the curves of his dimples deep in his cheeks. Tension visibly flees his shoulders and he closes the gap between them, hands coming to circle around his wrists again.

“Two months,” he agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there it is, the first chapter of my latest baby (and my first ever skz fic!). updates will probs be a little slow bc the chapters are longer and i'm in 3rd year of uni so gotta prioritise a little bit, but i have the entire fic planned so ik where things are going. lemme know if you have any questions bc i have thought a Lot about this world - like i have planned things that won't even be mentioned so i will gladly talk about it in the comments - and also perhaps leave a comment if you liked it??? i thrive off validation
> 
> 04/10/20: minor edits made
> 
> [[twitter](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy)] | [[cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjasmine)] | [[jilix au](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy/status/1236466231902900224)]


	2. two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jisung navigates the specifics of his (fake) relationship with hyunjin, gets lost in a library and spends a lot of time holding a certain someone's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/10/20: minor edits made

**TWO.**

“So we’ll say that you made the first move,” Hyunjin says on the first afternoon of their agreement. “Maybe we were just arguing like usual one day and then you – “

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Jisung interrupts, shooting up from where he has been hanging upside down off the edge of his bed. He blinks rapidly for a few moments as the blood rushes back from his head, vision swimming before he can refocus it on the boy sat cross-legged beside him. “Why do _I_ have to be the one who made the first move? Personally, I think it should be you. It only makes sense that you wouldn’t be able to resist _all this_ after so many years.”

Hyunjin looks as unimpressed as always. “Because between the two of us, you’re the more physical one,” he explains, not even bothering to comment on how realistic Jisung’s oh so humble brag is. “You’re always ready to tackle me. If anyone’s going to be impulsive enough to make the first move, it’s going to be you.”

Perhaps he has a point.

Jisung would rather not admit that.

“Yeah, but it’s relative to the context, isn’t it?” he says. “What if it was a situation where I, like, tackled you in the middle of an argument and you kissed me as a power move or something? And then we both turned out to like it and things progressed from there.”

“See, this is exactly why we’re saying you made the first move. You’re the only one stupid enough to kiss someone as a power move.”

 _Damn it_. He really is. Scowling, Jisung doesn’t deign that with a reply which Hyunjin takes as the sign of defeat it truly is. He moves onto the next item on their list – a carefully penned checklist on the notes app of his phone – and Jisung makes the executive decision to flop back over the edge of his bed and let the headrush claim him again.

It’s the day following That Dinner at Chan’s house – yes, with ‘That Dinner’ capitalised because it truly is unrivalled in the level of complete _idiocy_ they all managed to reach for various reasons – and Hyunjin has unceremoniously barged into the sanctity of Jisung’s bedroom to sort out their cover story. They managed to get away with being purposefully vague with the details the previous evening since everyone was feeling guilty for forcing Jisung and Hyunjin to admit to their supposed relationship before they were ready. All they said was that it was early days yet; that they’ve discovered they are indeed attracted to each other beneath the constant bickering and are now tentatively testing the waters to see where things will take them.

It was good enough for yesterday, but knowing their friends – nosy fuckers that they are, the lot of them – they’ll soon be demanding for more details. When that time comes, Hyunjin and Jisung have to be completely prepared and on the same page. Hence the list.

That being said, Jisung would much rather be sleeping than forcing himself to imagine ways he could’ve potentially started a relationship with _Hwang Hyunjin_ of all people.

“We’re probably going to have to start hanging out more often,” says the devil in question with an audible grimace. “As in, just the two of us. Or else it won’t really look like we’re dating.”

Jisung whines. “Do we have to?”

In response, Hyunjin lightly kicks him in the side. “Do you want to get the most out of this bullshit or not? How is Minho-hyung going to see you as someone dateable if you’re not seen dating your boyfriend?”

An ugly flush enters his cheeks at the reminder of why he’s agreed to this stupid thing in the first place. Jisung refuses to think of this as a reaction to Hyunjin being annoying enough to mention said reason – as if it isn’t embarrassing enough on its own to discomfort him without either of them having to say it out loud. No, his face is just red because he’s hanging upside down. Nothing deeper is at work here.

He jabs back with an angle he knows will irritate the other, voice sickly sweet. “Aw Hyunjinnie, I’m beginning to think you’re just desperate to hang out with me.”

Hyunjin responds with a sharp pinch of his stomach. Laughing, Jisung flips himself back onto the bed and rolls onto his side. He then very deliberately places his feet on Hyunjin’s lap just to be as irritating as possible, but quickly pulls them back when the other digs his nails into his soles. Instead, he wriggles them under Hyunjin’s thighs, tucked away snugly beneath the warmth of all that muscle.

“We don’t have to meet up much, do we?” he asks when he’s finally comfortable. “I really don’t like leaving my room for unnecessary things. How often did you used to go on dates with Seungmin?”

“Uh. Around four times a week, I think.”

His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “ _Four times a week?_ You want me to go out with you four times a week? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dear lord, how the fuck do extroverts function? The thought of that much human interaction brings genuine bile to the back of his throat.

“Obviously we won’t be meeting up as often.” Hyunjin scowls at him. “Do you think I really have the mental strength to suffer through that? Twice should be enough. I’ll just upload pictures of you onto my story on the other days.”

“Ew. Gay.”

“You have the maturity of a five year old.”

“Aww, thanks babe. You’re too sweet.”

Hyunjin pinches his ankle.

He flinches away from the assault. “ _Ow_ , you bag of shrivelled dicks, that one actually hurt! What’s the point in you lusting over me on your social media if you’re just going to injure me in person? Some boyfriend you are, Hwang Hyunjin.”

“First of all, no one’s fucking lusting over anyone. And secondly, I can still be in a relationship with you and beat you up if you piss me off.”

“Um, hello? Is this Seoul’s metropolitan police? I’d like to report an abusive prick.”

Letting out a frustrated growl, Hyunjin leans back until his head hits the wall. Eyes screwed shut, he inhales a deep breath through his nose. “God, why did I have to get stuck with the single most annoying person in all of Korea? What did I do to deserve this?”

“You’re just lucky, I suppose!”

His eyes crack open to send him a glare.

Grinning, Jisung responds by blowing him an obnoxious kiss and revels in the immediate curl of disgust that twists the other’s mouth. Annoying Hyunjin really is far too fun, sometimes. It’s no wonder he can’t help but push his buttons whenever they’re near each other. Hyunjin has always been so expressive, so quick to display his anger or horror or disgust and the reactions he provides are so entertaining in their delivery. It’s a nice back-and-forth to have.

“You do have a point though,” he concedes after a couple of minutes. “Even if you _are_ the most irritating person I’ve met, I can’t exactly hit you when you piss me off. We’ll both have to be more physically affectionate with each other.”

Jisung nods. “Of course, I’m right. I always am.” And then the rest of Hyunjin’s reply sinks in and he does a doubletake. “Wait, what? We have to be what?”

“More physically affectionate, dipshit. I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but that’s what couples _do._ ”

Dear God, just strike him down now. Not for the first time, Jisung wonders just what the hell he signed himself up for when he agreed to this whole fake dating shtick. Sure, it sounds easy enough in theory. After all, they managed to convince their friends there’s something going on when they weren’t even _trying_ to which means that any active measures to do so shouldn’t be too hard to pull off. He just… didn’t consider what those active measures might be.

“There’s no way in hell I’m going to kiss you,” he announces, revolted.

“Ew, what the fuck, that’s not even what I’m talking about! _I_ don’t want to kiss you anymore than you want to kiss me – “

“Debatable,” Jisung can’t help but interject.

A frosty glare is fired his way. Gritting his teeth, Hyunjin says, “If you would deflate your fat, delusional head for one second, I’d really appreciate it. We don’t need to kiss to sell this, we just need to… hold hands and shit. Back-hug each other, stuff like that. Just general coupley things.”

That doesn’t sound any better.

It’s not like Jisung’s not a tactile person. Much the opposite, in fact. He _thrives_ off physical contact with the people he loves, is always hanging off someone whenever he can – whether he’s cuddling Felix while they binge-watch vine compilations on YouTube, or has his chin hooked onto Chan’s shoulder when listening to his stuff in the studio, or smushing Jeongin’s cheeks together to pepper kisses onto his face. He can’t get enough of it and he knows Hyunjin is similarly minded.

But something like forcing Changbin to link arms with him is very different to holding hands with his boyfriend.

He sends Hyunjin a pathetic look. “Do we have to?”

Rolling his eyes, Hyunjin leans over to snatch his hand up, slim fingers sliding between his.

“Yes,” he says, pointedly rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. “We do. Suck it up and pretend to like it.”

“The fuck would I like holding your hand?” he grumbles, even as he flexes his fingers to get a more comfortable grip. “They’re always cold.”

“And yours are always clammy. I think I got the worst end of the stick.”

“My hands are a _delight_. Shakespeare would write sonnets about them if he was still kicking about.”

“Yeah, he’d write about the seemingly endless oceans that drip off them. No seriously, how are your hands this… wet? It’s disgusting, you should get that checked out.”

“ _It’s disgusting, you should get that checked out_ ,” Jisung mimics, voice high and nasal.

To further prove his maturity, he even throws in a contorted expression to accompany it, features scrunched up unflatteringly. Yeah, he’s petty. What else is new.

Despite his misgivings about the situation, dating Hyunjin (or at least pretending to anyways) isn’t much different from what they’re usually like. Sure, there’s a bit of hand-holding in there, especially whenever they’re under the unsubtle scrutiny of their friends – Chan, for example, seems to be convinced that Jisung is going to dry-hump Hyunjin the second their backs are turned – but their excuse of it being early days pays off. They’re not expected to be particularly affectionate or starry-eyed and any instances of them bickering is brushed off as flirting.

(Seriously, he suffered through Hyunjin’s stupid physical affection practices for no goddamn reason. For example, there has not yet been one instance where they’ve needed to hug. So he awkwardly wrapped his arms around Hyunjin and shoved his head under his chin for five whole seconds for nothing. He feels violated.)

Honestly, the main difference to his life is the fact that Hyunjin is now in it a whole lot more.

Yes, they’ve always been somewhat prominent presences in each other’s lives. It’s kind of impossible not to be when they’ve known each other for this long.

But being a prominent presence in each other’s lives before did not mean Jisung was expected to haul himself out of bed to walk Hyunjin to classes or pretend to love it when he returned the favour. It did not mean having to change his contact details from the usual **_Dickface_ – **nice, truthful and straight to the point – to a greasy pet name with no less than three hearts beside it. (His only consolation is that he saved it as **_Babe_ **since Hyunjin has expressed his distaste for it many a time.) It did not mean having to stick around between lectures to eat lunch together instead of bouncing off after a few minutes in the cafeteria in pursuit of the studio or his bed.

Nowadays, however, he’s expected to not only welcome Hyunjin’s company but actively seek it out.

To… enjoy it.

“Just so you know, I hate this,” Jisung declares when the first thing he sees after exiting his History of Music lecture is Hyunjin slouched against the far wall, scrolling through his phone. He trudges over to him and collapses forward onto his shoulder as heavily as he can. “Why are you everywhere I turn?”

“Why are you so heavy?” Hyunjin returns, shoving him away. He pulls him back to his side a mere second later and laces their fingers together. His hand is as cold as ever.

“I’m tired. Carry me through campus, peasant.”

“It’s only one o’clock and your day started an hour ago.”

Jisung squints at him with bleary eyes. “I feel like you’re trying to make a point, but I just don’t see what it could be.”

“You’re so annoying,” he sighs. Straightening up, he starts the (long, so _incredibly_ long) walk to the main campus cafeteria, all but dragging Jisung along given the other’s reluctance to exert physical effort. “C’mon, we’re catching lunch with our friends, remember? Everyone except Channie-hyung anyway, he has a dissertation meeting today.”

Jisung makes an unintelligible noise.

“Was I supposed to understand what that meant or something?” Hyunjin says, unimpressed.

He grunts. Even mustering up the energy to form proper sentences is too much after having to concentrate on a lecturer talking at him for an hour straight, his hand scurrying to keep up with the endless flow of information thrown at him. It is in moments like this that Jisung regrets appeasing his parents by attending uni instead of just applying to music labels from the get-go. He can write lyrics and stitch together beats without breaking his concentration for hours at a time but ask him to do the same in an academic setting and he’s ready to drop dead within minutes. University life just isn’t for him.

“I said: do we have to go? Can you not just drop me off to my flat?”

“No.”

“Please,” Jisung wheedles. “It means you won’t have to see me that much today. I know I’m great and my presence is a blessing to you, but I’m sure even _you_ need a breather from such magnificence occasionally. It’s a win-win situation.”

“Hm, that does sound tempting,” Hyunjin muses, pretending to think over it. Dramatic git that he is, he even pauses in their walk to exaggeratedly tap a finger against his mouth in contemplation. “But no, we promised we’d be there.”

“Ew, stop referring to us as a unit, it grosses me out.”

“We _are_ a unit, idiot.”

“Yeah, but not a _real_ one.”

Ignoring this, Hyunjin forges on towards the cafeteria. When they pass the turn towards the student accommodation, Jisung lets out a whimper and informs him that he’s expected to pay for Jisung’s lunch to which Hyunjin tells him to shut the fuck up. Naturally, he refuses. And then pushes past his exhaustion out of sheer spite to talk his ear off about everything and anything under the sun.

Literally.

He talks about what he learnt in his lecture today to what possessed JYP to wear those ghastly transparent pants to whether animals can communicate with each other in a language too advanced for humans to understand as well as everything in between. By the time they arrive at their table, Hyunjin looks like he’s aged fifteen years.

“ – Actually, I saw something on National Geographic that made me wonder whether animals have accents whenever they talk to each other. Like would a koala have an accent like Felix and Channie-hyung? Does a cat from Egypt think that cats from England sound really upper-class and snobby? Do frogs have accents when they ribbit? What’s the difference between a ribbit and a croak anyways, or are they just synonyms? And would – ”

“I’m begging you,” Hyunjin bursts out, sounding close to tears. “Stop talking.”

Mouth smug and quirked up at the corners, Jisung challenges, “Make me.”

“Please don’t,” Felix says, sounding pained. “I’ve just started eating this panini.”

“Is it a good panini?” Jisung asks him.

“No. It is not. I regret buying it. But I’ve committed to the cause and I refuse to give up now – I _will_ eat this panini, even if it makes me cry in the process.”

Which, as the young ones like to say, is a big fat mood.

To be honest, the campus cafeteria’s food isn’t even that good in general (which is another reason why Jisung would much rather be curled up in bed right now). He’s not sure why his friends agreed to grab a bite to eat here, but he comforts himself with the fact that he’s not paying for his food. All it takes is an announcement to the group that Hyunjin agreed to treat him today and a saccharine smile for his boyfriend in answer to the sudden death-grip that threatens to break his hand.

“He’s so sweet, isn’t he?” he says to the others as Hyunjin stalks off to the counters.

Felix looks torn between agreeing and throwing up (although how much of that is because he’s just taken another bite of his panini is up for discussion). Seungmin and Minho both exchange unreadable looks – partly amused, partly uncomfortable with seeing the former enemies so affectionate with each other after hearing them insult the other to hell and back – but Changbin nods.

“I never saw this coming, but I’m glad the two of you are doing well so far,” he says earnestly. “You’re actually more similar than you think.”

Felix hums in agreement. “He’s right, you know. When you get past all the bickering, you two kinda make sense. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I could’ve done without walking in on you, but I’m just glad we won’t have to hear you kick off again. It’s good to finally see both of you happy.” He pauses, sending Seungmin a guilty look. “No offence, Minnie.”

The boy in question offers them a small smile. “No offence taken. I’m also glad Hyunjin’s happy.”

Jisung flashes them a wide smile, peace sign thrown up near his eyes even as his stomach churns with guilt. Fuck, they seem really sincere. He didn’t expect to feel this bad about deceiving them. Wow, he really is an awful person for doing this.

“Thanks guys. I appreciate it.”

At least, he consoles himself, they’re doing this for a good cause.

Or, well, Hyunjin is anyways. The same can’t really be said for Jisung, but he’ll do his best not to linger on that. In the words of the man himself, Troy Bolton, he’s got to keep his head in the game. He can’t afford to have petty things like a guilty conscience stop him from finally getting Minho to notice him.

Said boy has his head bent over his plate, quietly eating his pasta while keeping his ear out for the conversation (which has now moved on to Seungmin complaining about his Photography tutor calling on him no less than five times in class since he was the only one who did the reading). Jisung knocks their feet together under the table, a silent gesture for hello, and shoots him a small smile when Minho looks up. The older returns it and gently taps his foot in reply.

Hyunjin falls into the seat next to him and drops the same shitty panini Felix has into his lap. “This was all they had left, sorry.”

Jisung looks pointedly at the wrap Hyunjin is about to tear into. “And yet you have something completely different.”

“I thought you don’t like pesto?”

He doesn’t, damn it. Nevertheless, Jisung flutters his eyelashes. “I would if you bought it for me,” he says coyly.

Across the table Changbin mimes throwing up. Meanwhile, Hyunjin’s eyes tighten at the corners as he fights back the look of disgust that threatens to twist his pretty features. His fingers dig into the plastic packaging in his hands. Jisung watches him, visibly amused.

With a forced smile, he says sweetly, “I think you might have something in your eyes, Jisungie. They won’t seem to stop blinking.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, babe. Only my undying love for you.”

Breaking character, Hyunjin punches him in the arm. Cheeks reddening, he hisses, “Shut _up_. Don’t say things like that when we’re in public.”

Jisung bursts into laughter. “Why so flustered? I could’ve sworn you like things like that.”

Hyunjin punches him again.

Still laughing, Jisung holds his hands up in surrender and leans out of reach. When Hyunjin swings for him a third time, he captures his fist before it can work a bruise into his skin and, without pausing to reconsider it, drops a small kiss onto the knuckles. The hand in his grasp spasms in surprise and Hyunjin makes an odd sound in the back of his throat like he’s dying. Jisung meets his eyes to find him already staring.

_Fuck._

Why did he do that?

Hyunjin’s lips part, but no words escape from between them. Before they can, Jisung figures that if he’s gone and pulled such a move, he might as well fully commit to the act and summons his greasiest smirk.

“Feeling better, babe?” he coos.

It’s as if the nickname yanks Hyunjin out of the daze he’s in. Jaw tightening with resolve, he snatches his hand free of Jisung’s, only to wrap it around his waist and pull him flush to his side. A thumb rubs circles just under his ribcage and he tangles their legs together beneath the table. He unleashes a deadly smile on Jisung – eyes scrunched up into crescents, mouth slightly crooked, dimples deep – and noses his hair.

“I am now,” he says, voice laced with so much sugar he’s sure all dentists within a mile radius have outright fainted. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

_Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t you dare do it, Han Jisung –_

Despite the frantic orders he yells in his head, Jisung feels it: the dreaded and god awful blush that turns his face red. Never in his life has he been more disappointed in himself. How dare his body betray him like this? Humiliated, he averts his eyes from the boy plastered to him and inadvertently catches the disgusted looks of their friends.

“I have no idea what the hell is going on here,” Felix finally says. “But the two of you make me feel worse than this panini does and that’s saying something.”

It’s always a sad day when Jisung remembers that he’s a full-time student at university. The reason being that being a university student means that Jisung can’t always hole up in his room and marathon as many episodes of _The Untamed_ as he can in one night; he actually has to work on occasion. Being a Music Composition undergrad means that he can mostly get away with convincing himself that the song-writing he does in his spare time is him putting in the extra hours for his grades. But sometimes there are things he just can’t avoid.

For example, this required reading for his History of Music unit.

Being the incredibly thoughtful person they are, his lecturer hasn’t provided them with any online copies of the required reading so Jisung has to actually drag himself to the library – yes, the _library_ of all places – to hunt down the coursebook. It’s honestly disgusting. Who doesn’t have e-books in this day and age? It’s the twenty first century for God’s sake.

“It’s because the man wants to keep us down,” Felix says solemnly as he scans his student ID at the turnstiles. “University is a sham and we’re all sheep for giving into it.”

“Not that I disagree with you, but have you been watching conspiracy theories on YouTube again?” Jisung asks.

Felix dabs. “Gotta stay woke.”

“And yet you still use memes from 2015.”

“Please don’t call me out like this before five o’clock in the afternoon, I’m not sure I can take it,” he says, placing a hand over Jisung’s mouth. Naturally, Jisung swipes his tongue across his palm. It tastes like skin and sweat and the Hot Cheetos they ate for lunch. In retaliation, Felix drags his hand across Jisung’s cheek to wipe off the saliva. “Let’s go and find this book of yours then. Which floor is it on again?”

Jisung looks at him blankly. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? This is the first time I’ve ever been in the library.”

“Well shit.” Felix stills. “Me too.”

They stare at each other, utterly mystified on where on earth to go from here.

Then Jisung shrugs. “Eh, how hard can it be? It’s a library, we’ll be in and out of here within five minutes max.”

They have enough brain cells between the two of them, he’s sure they’ll be able to work it out easily.

Ten minutes later and neither of them know where the fuck they are. He’s not sure who on earth designed this building, but they must’ve been smoking _something_ because none of it makes an iota of sense. Why is there an escalator that goes up and not one that goes down? Why is one half of the same floor called BLUE 1 and the other half called GREEN 2? Why is there a huge helpdesk in the centre of the main room with no one sat behind it?

It’s things like _this_ that remind him just why he stays in bed for three days straight. He can’t deal with fuckery like this.

“Lix,” he whimpers, crouched down in a random aisle. A peek at one of the books – _A Comprehensive History of the Silk Road –_ tells him that he’s in the history section, but he still has no idea where the music books are. Oh God, he’s going to cry. “I can’t do this anymore. I feel like we’ve been in here forever. I’m about to lose my mind.”

Felix, much to Jisung’s comfort, looks just as distraught as him. “You’re telling me. I can’t even remember what the sun looks like. We’re never going to get out of here.”

Even the sun is preferable to this. This oppressive, dust-ridden monotony of mindless studying and hushed whispers, a nightmare trapped between towering bookshelves within brick and mortar walls. Jisung wants to scream.

Ever so solemnly, he takes Felix’s small hand in his and squeezes. “If we die in here, I’m glad it’s with each other.”

“I’m your ride or die,” he replies, nodding seriously. “Till the very end.”

“Bro.”

“ _Bro.”_

Jisung lifts their clasped hands to press them against his chest, the very picture of touched. “Just like we were born together, so too will we die together. It’s been a good run, Lixie Pixie. Let’s hope they remember us fondly out there.”

It’s a very heartfelt moment if he does say so himself. Their fingers intertwined, their eyes boring into each other’s, bleeding pools of love and trust. Felix’s mouth is sombre, the faint smudges of his freckles just about visible under the dim yellow lighting, and Jisung genuinely feels choked up as he realises that this is the last image he’ll ever see in his short-lived life and –

“Can you two be quiet? This is a library and some of us are trying to study.”

Just like that the moment shatters.

Jisung twists his head to glare at the girl who interrupted them. “Do you mind?” he barks none too quietly. Several heads turn in their direction. “We’re having a private moment here.”

“Well, have your private moment elsewhere, Han Jisung. This is still a library.”

Eyeing her warily, Jisung shifts away from her cat-eyed scowl.

“How do you know my name?” he demands suspiciously. He has not spent nearly enough time attending socials or parties for her to know him. He lets out a theatrical gasp. “Are you perhaps stalking me? You do know I’m gay, right?”

She sends him a flat look. “We went to the same high school, idiot.”

“We did?”

Felix nods and whispers, “We did.”

“Oh. Well, we clearly didn’t know each other very well then.”

“We sat next to each other in English for a year,” she deadpans.

 _Oh._ That pulls Jisung up short. He meets her scornful expression with a sheepish smile and fakes a laugh. Sooner or later, this shitty memory of his is really going to bite him in the backside.

Felix shifts next to him, stretching his legs out in front of them. He absentmindedly rubs at a cramp in the back of his thigh as he says, “Say Yeji, you don’t happen to know where the hell the music section is, right? We’re looking for one of Jisung’s coursebooks and this library is the most confusing place I’ve ever stepped foot in.”

Yeji raises an eyebrow. It looks far more impressive than any of the attempts Jisung’s had at the gesture.

“No,” she says archly. She jerks her head in the direction of a table a few metres away to her left. “Why don’t you ask your friend? I’m sure he can help you.”

Felix and Jisung exchange a baffled look. One of their friends has been here the entire time and they somehow managed to miss him? They scramble to stand up, the prospect of freedom sweet on their tongues.

“I have never met two people dumber than you,” Minho says flatly five minutes later. His fingers push down on the letters of the keyboard very deliberately, as if each click emphasises just how stupid Felix and Jisung are. “You honestly have a braincell between the pair of you.”

“It was an honest mistake,” Jisung protests.

They’ve never had a reason to enter the library before. How were they supposed to know that some of the computers are linked to an online catalogue that specifies the location of every book down to the very shelf? It’s not like there are signs advertising it!

(Just as he thinks this, Jisung spots a huge arrow sign on the wall above the computer with the words _LIBRARY CATALOGUE_ in huge black lettering emblazoned next to it.

…Never mind then.)

“Okay dumbass,” Minho deadpans. A few clicks of the mouse later and some official-looking writing pops up on the ancient screen. “It says here that your book is on the third floor, aisle 203, shelf 3. The code is 203-3L.”

“The what is what now.”

He sends him an exasperated look. “The books have labels with codes on them to keep track of them. The one you’re looking for is 203-3L.” When it’s clear that Jisung still doesn’t understand, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I seriously don’t know how you function without me around. Must I do everything around here?”

He spins quickly on his heel and sets off towards the nearest set of stairs without sparing a glance back to confirm they’re following. All he does is wave his hand through the air in a sharp command. Jisung shares a shrug with Felix and then they scurry after him, catching up just as he passes through the double doors.

Despite the third floor being even more of a maze than the first, Minho makes quick work of locating the aisle and bookshelf Jisung needs. He points at a random book on the shelf, the bitten edge of his nail landing on the small white label wrapped around the top of the spine.

“This,” he says, enunciating his words like he’s speaking to a toddler, “is a label. It has a code on it. The books are arranged numerically and alphabetically so you can find them easily.”

Jisung casts the sprawling display of textbooks a dubious glance. He really doesn’t think he can.

“Or,” he says, sending Minho his most angelic beam, “hyung could do it for me? Since you’re already here and all.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you love me.”

“Debatable,” he scoffs, even as he bends down to skim his gaze across the books on the shelf. He tilts his head to the side, tongue poking out slightly. Mere seconds later, he straightens up and shoves an ugly navy and orange textbook at Jisung’s chest. “Here you go, brat. Try not to lose it.”

Jisung gasps, offended. “How dare you. I have _never_ lost _anything_ in my life.” This may or may not be an outright lie, but he’ll never admit to it.

“Yeah right,” Felix scoffs to his left. “Your room’s a mess, I’m surprised you can find anything in there.”

“I’ve told you I know where everything is and goes!”

“That’s a lie and _you know it_ ,” he shoots back.

Before they can fall into a bickering mess – because, sanctity of the library be damned, Jisung is never one to back down from any attacks to his honour and Felix has known Jisung long enough to take jabs at it anyway – Minho reins them in with nothing more than a look. Like a pair of naughty schoolboys, the two fall silent sheepishly. When Minho’s back is turned, they dissolve into quiet giggles.

“Did you see his face?” Felix whispers as they follow the third year to the checkouts.

Jisung snickers. “Yeah, he looked so done with us.”

“I _am_ so done with you,” he calls out, grimacing with pain. “I didn’t prepare to deal with your brand of stupidity so early in the morning.”

Jisung decides not to point out that it’s three o’clock in the afternoon.

Meanwhile, Felix snaps his hand towards his face and smirks. “We irritating.”

Minho spins around to aim a swift kick at his leg. “Say one more meme and I swear to God, I’ll feed you to my cats.”

He watches Felix scramble away from him with relish. Jisung, the unlucky shield shoved in between the two of them, throws his hands up in surrender and tries to look as harmless as possible, eyes round and large.

“Please don’t hurt me, I’m too handsome to die.”

Despite the threat in his glare, Minho can’t quite suppress his smile. “You’re also incredibly irritating.”

“What, so you can say it and I can’t?”

Ignoring Felix’s indignant whine, Minho reaches over to tweak Jisung’s nose, laughing quietly when it twitches under his touch. He pats his cheek.

“I suppose I can be a nice person and let you off today,” he says graciously. “Can’t exactly have Hyunjinnie hunting me down because I harmed his boyfriend, can I? The boy’s like a tree compared to us common folk. Speaking of which, why didn’t you just ask him to grab you the textbook? He’s in the library like all the time, the nerd.”

Okay so listen. It’s not like Jisung forgets how to function or something whenever Minho touches his face because it’s not exactly a new development for Minho to be affectionate with him. He’s always resting his head on Jisung’s shoulder or putting his feet on his lap or squeezing in between Jisung’s hip and the arm of the sofa like a cat that demands attention. By now, he’s very familiar with the instant wave of warmth Minho’s actions call upon him. He’s a _pro_ at this, okay?

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get distracted by the butterflies that erupt in his stomach every now and then, so it takes him a moment to realise what Minho is saying.

Which is why he scoffs, “Why the hell would I do that?” before he remembers that he’s technically dating Hyunjin and should probably sound a lot sweeter when he talks about him.

Minho’s eyebrow quirks up slightly.

“I mean,” Jisung says hurriedly, scrambling for an explanation, “I know we’ve started dating and all, but Hyunjin is still, like… annoying as fuck, you know what I mean?”

…And that’s probably not the explanation he should go with. Well done there, Han Jisung, what’s it like to constantly put your foot in your mouth? God, he really needs to work on selling this whole thing if he plans on convincing anyone.

Oh well, it’s too late now. He’ll just have to do his best to damage control.

Aiming for a casual tone, he continues, “You know Hyunjin. There’s no way he wouldn’t use my inexperience with the library as an opportunity to clown me. I can’t let my own boyfriend clown me now, can I?”

“Everyone clowns you though,” says Felix.

Jisung promptly elbows him in the gut.

“I mean, he’s not wrong,” Minho agrees with a laugh. He pats Jisung’s cheek again and this time his fingers linger on his face. “I guess it’s a good thing you found me then. I won’t clown you, I’ll just demand repayment for being kind enough to take time out of my day to help you. What do you say to lunch on Saturday? Your treat. Felix, you’re not invited.”

Felix splutters. “You! Whatever, I didn’t want to go anyways.”

“Keep saying that and I might believe you one day.”

“I – you know what, I am feeling so unfairly attacked right now. If I knew the way out of this hellscape by myself, I’d be out of here before you could blink.”

Minho looks at him blankly. “Bye then.” At Felix’s indignant cry, his face splits with a fond smile. He returns his attention to Jisung. “So, what do you say? Lunch on Saturday? The dynamic duo in the cat café?”

Grinning, Jisung starts to nod eagerly in agreement. Sure, he might prefer dogs himself, but Minho’s always been so soft and warm around cats so going to the cat café is always a nice time. Even if his wallet doesn’t quite agree since he’ll be the one paying.

And then his memory decides to pull through for once and he can barely hold back his groan.

“I can’t,” he says with visible reluctance. “I have a date with Hyunjin. He texted me last night about wanting to take me out this Saturday.”

“Oh.”

The smile on the other’s face falls into a frown. They’ve never had to worry about their plans clashing before. Even when Minho had his own dates or relationships to worry about, they didn’t have to try to fit the other person into each other’s weeks. Unless he’s in the studio, Jisung’s schedule has more or less always been open for any spontaneous outing with any of his friends. So this is a brand new development – one that Jisung is not a fan of in the slightest.

Feeling just as disappointed as Minho – it’s not like he _wants_ to skip out on lunch with him to hang out with Hwang fucking Hyunjin of all people, but he did unfortunately promise the idiot he’d go on the date – Jisung shoves his hands into his pockets. He aims for a hopeful smile, wanting to hide the irritation he already feels brewing for Hyunjin for ruining his plans.

“I’m free on Sunday though if you want to meet up? I can come to yours in the evening and we can watch a documentary on that big-ass tv of yours.”

“Yeah, that works out,” Minho says right away. “Bring pizza or I won’t let you in.”

He rolls his eyes. “Am I your best friend or am I just a wallet to you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question?”

Gasping, Jisung sends him a pouty look, eyes large and cheeks bunched up. Minho huffs out a laugh and ruffles his hair. He taps his nose affectionately one last time and then turns back to lead them to the checkouts. Jisung watches him walk away, the tip of his nose still simmering with the ghost of Minho’s touch, before Felix slides out from behind him and throws his arm over Jisung’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Sungie,” he says, guiding him after their friend. “Let’s get out of this godforsaken place before we get lost in here forever.”

“Just so you know, I hate you,” Jisung says when Hyunjin barges into his room shortly before noon on Saturday. He didn’t even bother to knock, the fucker. “You’re a life-ruiner. You ruin people’s lives.”

“Okay Janice Ian,” Hyunjin says nonplussed. He comes to a stop next to where Jisung’s head lies on one of his plushies and looks down at him, annoyingly tall. “You can hate me on our date. Get up.”

“ _Noo,_ ” he whines, even as he’s dragged upright. “I don’t want to go on a date with a life-ruiner.”

“Too bad. Put your shoes on.”

“Put them on me, dickface.”

Twenty seconds later, a ratty Converse hits his shoulder. It falls onto his lap and then slides onto the floor next to his feet. Jisung looks down at it pointedly, then at the boy now crouched next to the pile of shoes at the opposite end of his room. Hyunjin meets his scowl with the shadow of a smirk.

“Oops.”

“Do that again and I swear to God, I will break your toes and shove them up your asshole,” Jisung promises him.

Inexplicably, Hyunjin giggles. “Sounds kinky,” he says, tossing over the other Converse from the pair.

Luckily for him, this one lands just short of Jisung’s ankle, so he doesn’t have to make good on his promise to beat Hyunjin up, just shoves his left foot into the shoe, not bothering to properly undo and redo the laces.

When the Converses are on, Hyunjin strides over to tug Jisung into a standing position. He scans him critically, making sure Jisung at least _looks_ like he’s made an effort for this date. Sighing, Hyunjin brushes the stray crumbs of croissant off his shoulders and wipes the chocolate stain from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

Jisung bats his hand away.

“You couldn’t have chosen something cuter to wear?” Hyunjin asks.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles, burrowing into his hoodie defensively. “It’s cold outside.”

Hyunjin looks out of the window at the dull, overcast sky. “Fair enough,” he says, even though he’s only dressed in an oversized black t-shirt tucked into black skinny jeans with rips spanning the length of half of his thighs. There’s no way he’s not going to freeze out there.

Jisung eyes him. “Do you… want to borrow a jacket or something? Most of mine are oversized so they’ll be alright on you,” he offers albeit somewhat reluctantly. He might be a prick, but that doesn’t mean Jisung can’t be nice.

Sometimes.

When he’s feeling particularly charitable.

Hyunjin opens his mouth, most likely to reject the suggestion, but glances outside again and then shrugs. “Sure. Where’s your oversized denim jacket? I like that, it’s nice. Not that I’m surprised – I chose it, you know.”

He rolls his eyes, going over to his wardrobe to fish the jacket out of the pile of clothes stuffed behind the doors. “Yeah, I know,” he says, shoving the article at his chest. “You never shut up about it.”

“Because I’m in awe of how good my taste is.”

“You’re not even the one who bought it for my birthday, Lix did.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I still chose it.” He slides his arms through the sleeves and pulls the jacket on. “How do I look? Handsome, right?”

Annoyingly enough, yes, he does. The jacket frames his torso better than it flatters Jisung, the light blue of the denim soft against the honey of his skin. Since he’d rather die than admit that, however, Jisung merely reaches out to straighten his collar and huffs.

“Like someone who’s paying for our date. Since it was your decision to go out in the first place.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

His hand slips down to interlock with Jisung’s, fingers sliding into the spaces between his own. Given how cold the weather is outside, it’s no wonder that they feel like genuine blocks of ice; still, Jisung hisses, instinctively trying to pull away. With a pointed glare, Hyunjin yanks him back to his side.

“I hate you,” Jisung repeats. “What the fuck are your hands made of? How is it physically possible for them to be this cold?”

“How is it physically possible for yours to be so clammy?” he shoots back. “God, you sweaty freak of nature. You could singlehandedly water all of Africa with all the moisture on your palms.”

Jisung sighs and pinches his nose with his free hand. This is going to be the longest day of his life.

Two hours pass before Jisung even realises it.

Once they left their building – his flatmates Dongju and Jaemin pausing the episode of Running Man on their tv just to waggle their eyebrows obnoxiously at them on their way past – Hyunjin steered them towards the city centre. He was annoyingly quiet about where they were heading and even more annoyingly insistent on stopping every other street or so to take pictures for his Snapchat story, tugging Jisung close to squeeze their heads into frame. But eventually, they came to a stop outside the closest bowling alley.

“This is awfully cliché of you,” Jisung commented as they passed through the doors and the roar of noise crashed over them. “Bowling and a dinner date. Not very original, Hwang Hyunjin.”

If he was offended by the slight, Hyunjin didn’t show it. “I figured if we have to spend time with each other, we might as well make it fun. And beating you at bowling is always fun.”

It was like he knew exactly what to say to have Jisung’s shackles rise. He stiffened, chest swelling with pride. “Oh it’s on, pretty boy. Let’s see how you feel in an hour when I’ve made you cry.”

“Bring it, Han. I’d like to see you fucking try.”

Which brings them to two hours later.

Knowing neither of them are going to leave until they win at least the once, Hyunjin bought tickets for three sets of games in a row and they agreed to settle this with the age-old determinant of best two-out-of-three. Nothing but their pride is at stake, but that’s enough. All that matters is Jisung getting one up on Hwang Hyunjin and all of his reluctance to go on this date disappears. He is left with nothing but spite and determination.

“Take that motherfucker!” he crows, spreading his arms wide in victory and spinning around to flash Hyunjin a smug smile. Behind him, the last of the pinballs clatters to the ground and an X appears beside his name on the screen. “Who’s laughing now?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Still me, seeing as how you bowl like an old man.”

He picks up one of the bowling balls and jumps into a low squat, exaggeratedly pushing his butt out while contorting his face. His arms slowly swing the ball in the gap between his legs.

Jisung can’t help the laugh that escapes him at the sight, even though the older is making fun of him, though he does land a firm kick on his butt in retaliation. Hyunjin yowls like a cat and drops the bowling ball with a loud thud, his hands shifting to rub his backside protectively.

“I’ve been shot!” he yells, staggering to the floor. He curls up in a ball and lets out a pitiful whine. “You’ll have to carry me to the hospital. I’ll never be able to walk again.”

“Or I could leave you here.”

“Even someone as awful and as atrocious as you wouldn’t be so cruel,” he says.

Jisung grins and crouches down beside him to leer. “Wanna bet?”

Glowering, Hyunjin snatches up his arm and yanks him flat on his arse, ignoring his cried protest. “Looks like you’ll just have to stay down here with me then. After all, you are my _boyfriend_ , aren’t you? You could _never_ bear to leave me behind.”

“I think I’ll manage somehow,” he says.

He attempts to push himself to his feet – but Hyunjin appears to have other plans in mind and throws his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Jisung elbows him, trying to get away, only to have the other stick to him like a barnacle. The two of them struggle on the ground, Hyunjin cooing obnoxiously in his ear about how Jisung can’t _bear_ the thought of parting with the love of his life while he does his best to escape.

Somehow in the middle of this chaos, Hyunjin’s hand lands on the most sensitive spot of the back of Jisung’s neck. When he automatically recoils, shoulders drawn up and head thrown back, Hyunjin’s eyes practically light up with mischief.

“Hyunjin, don’t,” he begins warningly.

“Don’t what?” he replies with faux innocence. Already, his left hand is trailing up Jisung’s side. “I’m not doing anything.”

“I can literally see it in your face what you’re about to do, you fucker, so don’t – _no!”_

He practically shrieks the last word because it is then that Hyunjin dives in, hands eagerly finding all of Jisung’s most ticklish spots. Laughing helplessly, Jisung struggles to escape the torture, but it’s as if he’s lost all sense of control in his body. All he can do is writhe on the floor.

By the time Hyunjin finally takes pity on him, there are tears at the corners of his eyes. After such an attack, he can hardly muster up the energy to get up, so he just sags against Hyunjin’s arm and tries to catch his breath. He rubs at the inside of his cheeks with his tongue, despairing at how much they ache from his laughter.

When he finally regains some of his strength, he lands a swift punch on the other’s arm. He pinches Jisung’s thigh in reply.

“Idiot,” Jisung mutters, too exhausted to inject the insult with the proper venom it usually carries.

“It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish,” Hyunjin says. “I can’t help it if you’re such an easy target.”

Jisung punches him again. “Just for that, you can pay for our dinner. I deserve it after all that torture you just put me through.”

“Um, I think the fuck not. I paid for three rounds of bowling, you can pay for our food. Speaking of which, get off me, it’s my turn to bowl.”

He doesn’t wait for Jisung to move, scrambling to his feet right away. Jisung just about manages to stop himself from losing balance and smacking the floor with his face. He scowls, aiming a kick at Hyunjin’s ankle that the other easily sidesteps with a smug smile. He then swaggers over to the bowling balls, boasting of his prowess and announcing to the entire bowling alley how he’s going to win this game.

In the end, it’s Jisung who wins – both the game and their mini competition – and he makes no small deal of it.

“All hail the king of bowling,” he declares grandly as they walk out of the bowling alley ten minutes later. His arms are once again wide open, face tilted up to the sky, and the smuggest smirk in his arsenal has been carefully painted onto his face. “You might be wondering: ‘how is he that good?’ Well, that’s easy enough to answer. I’m Han Jisung. That says it all.”

Hyunjin shoves lightly at his back. “Even your name doesn’t manage to capture how annoying you are.”

Jisung spins around to face him, walking backwards. “I can’t help it if I’m larger than life, babe. I’m just that good.”

Three seconds later, he crashes into a lamppost. Hyunjin lets out a sharp, delighted laugh. Eyes scrunched up in two crescents, mouth open in an ecstatic grin, he bounces forward to pull a startled Jisung back towards him.

“You’re also the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met,” he says cheerily as their fingers slot together. He tucks their entwined hands into the pocket of his (read: Jisung’s) denim jacket and steers them past the lamppost that nearly knocked Jisung out. “And paying for our dinner so c’mon, let’s get to it. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”

Still somewhat dazed from the lamppost, it takes Jisung a few seconds to register that. When he does, he directs a stern frown at the boy next to him. “Just so you know, just because I’m paying doesn’t mean you can order half the damn menu. Uni has still ate up my entire bank account, so I’ve been in my overdraft for at least two weeks now.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“Keep talking like that and the only thing you’ll be eating are these hands.”

“No thanks, I’m not into vore,” he says easily. “But you do you, Han. I don’t kink-shame.”

Jisung kicks the back of his leg.

They end up going to a hole-in-the-wall fried chicken restaurant that Changbin has recommended to both of them on no less than six separate occasions, swearing that they have the best chilli sauce this side of Seoul. As they wait for the ahjumma to bring out their food, the conversation fades away and they settle into a brief silence. It’s not an uncomfortable atmosphere – far from it, in fact. Between the cosy lighting, the mouth-watering smell wafting over from the kitchen and the high he has from his victory, Jisung is actually quite content, even if he started off this day as anything but.

Even the fact that he’s here with Hyunjin of all people doesn’t stop the spread of warmth in his core. Hyunjin with his carefully glossed lips and the numerous silver rings on his fingers and Jisung’s damn denim jacket on his shoulders, with his loud laugh and even louder yells. He could be here with worse company.

Singing softly, Jisung picks up his phone and absentmindedly goes through his notifications. A few texts to the group chat here, some funny memes Felix sent to him on twitter there, and then he’s off to Snapchat, tapping through people’s stories.

When he gets to Hyunjin’s, he slows down, watching it carefully. It’s so odd to see the picture that it presents to the world. First, it begins with Hyunjin posing in the mirror, a sheet mask moulded to his features and a toothbrush dangling from his mouth as he flashes a peace sign in the air. Written beneath it are the words _about to make myself pretty for my Saturday date!_ The next Snap is a silent video of him with his outfit on and the caption _made myself pretty uwu._ Jisung can’t help but roll his eyes.

Next up is a selfie of the two of them outside. In it, Hyunjin has one arm thrown over Jisung’s shoulder and holds him close, head cocked to the side to rest it on top of his. Snapchat Jisung has his mouth pulled back in a close-lipped smile, eyes purposefully made large, though the Jisung at the time was really swearing at Hyunjin to hurry the fuck up and take the picture. This one, Hyunjin has captioned _boyfriend gave me his jacket uwu_ and added no less than three heart eyes and hearts to.

More selfies and aesthetic pictures follow – some of Jisung grinning down at the bowling ball maniacally, some of the sky or the streets they walked through – which Jisung flicks through at a quicker pace until –

“Bastard,” he breathes, staring down at his phone in disbelief. He gapes at the Snap that takes up the entire screen display of his phone and then scrunches up a napkin to throw at Hyunjin’s face.

He splutters, dropping his phone dramatically – probably in the middle of taking another selfie for Snapchat – and cries out, “What the hell was that for? God, do you have to be so violent all the time?”

In response, Jisung shoves his phone under his nose. “Seriously? This is what you put up on your story?”

Hyunjin glances down at the screen and then snickers. “Oh yeah. That. Pretty funny, isn’t it?”

‘That’ being a picture of Jisung in his classic bowling pose: legs bent low, back straight, hands aiming a ball for the centre of the pinballs and butt sticking out slightly. At the bottom of the picture, Hyunjin has written _he might be beating me at this game, but guess who’s going to be beating that ass later?_ _( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

“I will rip your balls off and hang them on a Christmas tree.”

“Please don’t,” he winces. “I’m gonna need them if we want people to believe my story – _ow,_ okay, okay, I’m _joking_ , Jesus Christ! Stop kicking my legs or you’ll really _have_ to carry me to the hospital. Fucking hell.”

Jisung retreats, rebuking him with a glare. “You never said stuff like that about Seungmin.”

“Maybe because I actually fancied him.”

“You’re meant to actually fancy me, idiot,” he reminds him. He’s not actually mad about the Snap – if it was anyone else, he might’ve even laughed – but this is Hyunjin he’s dealing with so he can’t help but want to give him a hard time. “I’m your boyfriend, remember?”

The eye roll Hyunjin succumbs to is long and looks painful. He picks his phone up again and aims it at Jisung, saying, “Alright fine then. Pose for the camera and I’ll write something nice to fix it.”

Immediately, Jisung squeezes his eyes shut and flashes two peace signs next to them, mouth lifting into a cute smile. He leans over to approve of Hyunjin’s caption – _he’s cute or something ig –_ before snapping his own picture of Hyunjin and adding it to his story captionless. After a moment’s consideration, he slides out of his seat and slots into the other side of the booth beside Hyunjin who stiffens.

“What are you doing?” he asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

He sends him an exasperated look. “I’m not going to murder you, idiot. I just realised I haven’t uploaded anything to my story aside from that one snap of you three seconds ago so we should take a selfie together or something. Can’t let people know I don’t care about you, after all.”

“Oh right. Pass your phone here then.”

The two of them pass the time taking pictures for Jisung’s story. What should’ve been two simple taps of his screen somehow evolves into them making their way through all of the filters on Snapchat, the two of them bursting into delirious laughter when the app disfigures their faces horrifically. They spend more time with these ones than on filters that flatter their features, too amused with distorting their voices and videoing silly impressions.

When the ahjumma returns with their food, she smiles softly at the pair. “You two work well together,” she says. “Eat well, won’t you?”

As she walks away, Jisung exchanges a look with Hyunjin, both equally amused at the fact that they could leave someone with that impression of them. Jisung and Hyunjin working well together? The world must be ending.

“She’s not that wrong to be fair,” says Hyunjin a few moments later, already digging into his chicken. At Jisung’s disbelieving laugh, he insists, “She’s not. I mean, yeah, we’re not exactly best friends, but today hasn’t been so bad, has it?”

Jisung fiddles with the tab of his Coke can. “I mean, I guess not? But it’s not like we were on an actual date or anything so like…”

“Well yeah, obviously not. But I think today has shown that we can do this without biting each other’s heads off so we’re clearly not as bad as we thought we were.”

He thinks this over. Just weeks ago, if someone told him that he would be able to spend hours on end with Hyunjin – just the two of them, none of their friends in sight – and they would be able to make it out of the encounter unscathed, he’d have laughed them out of the room. But that’s exactly what has happened. Sure, they’ve hardly stopped bickering and Jisung has delivered no less than a dozen threats and then some. But they’ve been more light-hearted than anything else. Nothing _genuinely_ vindictive.

Come to think of it, he can’t think of the last time he was genuinely pissed off with Hyunjin. Not since That Dinner at Chan’s house anyways. His complaints throughout their charade have been more performative than rooted in genuine annoyance.

Maybe Hyunjin’s right. Maybe they _can_ pull this whole thing off without coming close to killing each other.

“You know what?” Jisung puts his drink down and looks at Hyunjin with a proud smile. “We’re actually not. Looks like we might finally be growing up, Hwang. And personally I think this means that we’re going to boss this whole plan of ours. Whaddya say?”

He holds out his fist expectantly. Grinning, Hyunjin meets it with his own and their knuckles gently bump off each other before they return to their food.

Somehow, the gesture feels like the start of something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i... did not mean to take a month between updates. when i said it was going to be slow, i didn't expect it to be this slow lmao. good news though! i have exams so guess who has even less time to work on fic!! this girl right here :))) luv lyf i do
> 
> on a real note, thank you to everyone who has decided to check out/stick with this fic. i hope you liked the second chapter?? let me know if there's anything you want to see specifically in the coming chapters! even though i have it all planned out, i'm not too fussed about tweaking individual scenes if a good idea strikes me. also let me know what your favourite parts were ^.^
> 
> [[twitter](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy)] | [[cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjasmine)] | [[jilix au](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy/status/1236466231902900224)]


	3. three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jisung learns what being friends with hyunjin feels like and also spends a lot of time sleeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my loves! been over a month but we're back at it again with an update. just in case you haven't noticed the updated tags, this chapter in particular explores/touches upon jisung's anxiety! it's been hinted at throughout the previous chapters, but it is given a much bigger focus in this one. just thought i'd give you a heads up <3

**THREE.**

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just drop out of uni right now and run away to a remote mountain village in the Himalayas where assignments are a concept unknown to man.”

Hyunjin looks up from the notes he practically has his nose pressed to – _has_ had his nose pressed to if the slight smudge of ink on the tip of it suggests anything; Jisung sees it and immediately decides he will not point it out – and shrugs.

“I think you should do it,” he says. “At least this way I’ll finally get rid of you.”

“Oh ha _ha_ , very funny. Don’t act like it wouldn’t break your heart if I left, babe.”

“It wouldn’t – “

“Or that you wouldn’t spend every night sobbing into your pillow while wearing one of the hoodies I left behind in my impromptu escape while you scroll through a secret photo album on your phone that’s full of nothing but candid photos of me.”

“I really wouldn’t – “

“Or that you wouldn’t just one day decide to put an end to your utter misery and heartache by following after me, constantly praying that you would find me and be able to sway me into returning to Seoul so that you can welcome me back into society with open arms.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “Are you done yet?” he asks flatly.

No, not yet.

“I’m sure it would be a dramatic moment. I’m there, living off the fat of the land like Lennie always dreamt of doing, wiping sweat off my beaten brow after a long day in the fields. You turn up looking dead-on-your-feet _exhausted_ after weeks of constant, arduous travel, but the mere sight of me rejuvenates you so much that you run forward and sweep me up into your strong, capable arms. I then promptly tell you to put me the fuck down and file a restraining order as soon as I escape. You break down into inconsolable tears. It’s such a picturesque moment, don’t you think?”

“All I heard from that is that you think my arms are strong and capable.”

The glaze filming Jisung’s dramatic, distant gaze dissolves immediately as he drops his eyes back down and scowls. “Do you have no appreciation for my talented and imaginative storytelling?”

“No,” Hyunjin deadpans and then breaks out into a smile when Jisung throws a ruler at him. He picks it up and waves it obnoxiously through the air. “Thanks, I needed this.”

“You infuriate me.”

“Want me to apologise by sweeping you up into my strong and capable arms?”

Not wanting to deign that with a proper answer, Jisung merely responds with an ever so mature middle finger. Hyunjin reaches over to gently pinch the tip of it at which point the third member of their study session, Felix, groans and forces their hands apart.

“You guys are impossible,” he despairs. “You’re supposed to be revising for your midterms, not flirting shamelessly in front of me. You’re making the baby upset.”

“What baby?” Jisung asks, confused.

“Me. I’m the baby. I’m upset. And I don’t need you two to remind me of how painfully single I am so for the love of God, hold off on your weird ass foreplay until I’m out of the room, alright? Is that too much to ask for?”

 _We’re not even flirting_ , Jisung protests in his head. Of course, in his head is where the protests remain because as far as Felix is concerned, Jisung is in the prime position to flirt with Hyunjin like there’s no tomorrow. They are supposedly dating, after all. It’s just weird to think that something that is so clearly non-romantic in nature is being construed that way _just_ because Hyunjin is meant to be Jisung’s boyfriend or whatever.

“I’m fine with it,” the boyfriend in question says with a small shrug. He smirks over at Jisung. “I’m not sure about him, however. He can hardly keep his eyes off me.”

Mother _fucker._

He shoots him a glare. “You mean like this?”

Still grinning, Hyunjin blows him an obnoxious kiss.

Felix lets out an anguished wail that is a few decibels too loud for a place like the Student Union’s study centre and lets his head hit the table.

“I hate this,” he cries miserably into his arms. “I hate you. Both of you, I hate both of you. Why I thought it was a good idea to study with you – am I an _idiot_ or something? Too naïve to think that you would save all this flirtatious energy for your dates?”

When he punctuates this with his best impression of a foghorn, Jisung can’t help but crack up. He pats the back of Felix’s head comfortingly, then runs his fingers through the (damaged) strands.

“Can’t help it if we’re in love, Lixie,” he says airily.

Hyunjin pauses in the middle of highlighting a sentence in his notes an obnoxious yellow to grimace. “Don’t get ahead of yourself man, we’re not there yet.”

“You mean you _don’t_ keep a framed photo of me under your pillow to kiss as soon as you wake up in the morning?”

“Oh, I considered it. But then I realised that the toilet bowl was a much more fitting place for it.”

“Aw babe.” Jisung presses his free hand against his chest and makes his eyes large and dewy. A smitten smile softens the corners of his lips, though his amusement can’t quite stay hidden. “I love it when you whisper sweet nothings to me.”

Felix shoots up, his chair skidding back to crash against the wall behind him. “No, I’m sorry guys, I can’t do it anymore. You guys can stay here by yourself. I’m going to find Seungmin and study with him instead. I think I’m actually going to throw up if I stay here any longer, the two of you are disgusting.”

“ _Noo,_ Lix, don’t go,” Jisung protests, reaching for him with grabby hands. His best friend tries to duck them to no avail; Jisung is already pulling him back down and towards him, looping his arms around his neck as he coos. “I’m sorry, we’ll stop. We won’t even look at each other, I swear.”

“Yeah, _right_.”

“Okay maybe we’ll look at each other a little bit. But there’ll be no flirting to it, I promise. We’ll keep things pure, alright? No flirting until our next date.”

Felix eyes him distrustfully before he relents. “Okay… But any funny business and I swear to you, I’m leaving.”

Satisfied with this answer, Jisung finally lets him go, flashing him a wide smile. He then turns back to his notes – the ones that have him wanting to run off to a remote mountain village and live off the fat of the land – and sighs down at them. It’s a simple action, but even the mere thought of just picking up his pen seems like a Herculean task at this moment.

Whoever told him uni would be fun needs a kick up the backside.

Seriously.

For all they continue to bicker like it’s what they’ve been made to do, Jisung finds that Hyunjin is actually not that bad. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t already used to get a kick out of arguing with him, that their fights thrilled him just as equally as they had him foaming at the mouth, but now even the moments where they’re not throwing insults at each other are nice too. Despite being at odds with one another for most of their lives, they’re actually surprisingly similar.

(A memory of Changbin once pointing this out to a fourteen year old Jisung, who was understandably furious to hear it, comes back to him in vivid technicolour whenever he thinks this.)

They have the same sense of humour, bouncing off each other’s jokes like a comedic duo. They have the same interests in movies and shows which means they can easily get wrapped up in discussing them loudly, re-enacting their favourite lines and passionately dragging the characters they hate. And they both have an almost unhealthy love for music – Jisung for creating it, Hyunjin for letting it guide his body onstage – that they indulge the other in readily.

Even their dates can be pretty fun. As much as Jisung likes to whinge about having to go out on them, as much as he rolls his eyes whenever Hyunjin whips out his phone to take yet another picture for his Snapchat, as much as he grumbles about how he’d much rather be in his bed... The truth is that it’s kinda nice to hang out with someone else.

Especially because it’s become something of an inside joke between them now since they're the only two people in the world who know the truth of what they really are to each other. So whenever they’re out on dates – whether they’re promising to destroy the other person at Dance Dance Revolution in the arcade or snickering at a movie in the back of the cinema – and their friends comment on how cute they are together, they can’t help but find it hilarious.

Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin dating? It’s their best joke yet.

“What do you think of this?” Hyunjin asks, coming over to where Jisung lounges on Chan’s sofa, watching Minho try to find something for them to watch on Netflix.

He squeezes into the gap between Jisung’s thigh and the armrest as if it isn’t barely wide enough for a toddler to fit into. Wobbling precariously over the edge, it’s a wonder he doesn't topple backwards and split his skull open on the floor before Jisung reaches out to steady him with a hand on his back.

“Thanks,” he says offhandedly before shifting to sit on Jisung’s thigh proper. He holds out his phone. “This looks nice, don’t you think? We could go there on Wednesday after my seminar ends at 2.”

He spares the screen a disinterested glance. “Sure, sounds cool.”

Hyunjin frowns. “Look at it,” he insists, shoving his phone into Jisung’s face.

He barely manages to dodge the attack. “Jeez, I’m looking, I’m looking! No need to knock me out with it!”

He lifts his hand to angle the phone better, scanning the Instagram post on Hyunjin’s screen. It’s from an account called **@eatingwithseoul** and seems to be a comic book café of some sort. Brightly lit, yellow colour blocking; all in all a cute place he wouldn’t mind visiting. Shrugging, Jisung shares that comment.

“Their food looks really good,” Hyunjin says, swiping through the pictures and pointing out little things here and there. “Mostly American food to be fair – hamburgers, curly fries, hot dogs and stuff. And ooh look, they do milkshakes with really cute straws! Look at the little manga characters all over them!”

Voice rising with delight, he giggles and eagerly taps a heart onto the post despite having already liked it. Jisung watches him with a small smile.

“And look,” he continues, shoving the phone back under Jisung’s nose, “they have sleeping pods too. So I figured even if we’re out of the flat, you can still have your afternoon nap if you want.”

He’s barely finished speaking before Jisung hurries to say, “We’re going. You’ve sold it to me, I’m there. Let’s go for it.”

“Ha, I knew that would get your attention. Why am I even surprised? I should’ve opened with that selling point instead of the food.”

“Sleep is essential for life,” Jisung says, defensive.

Hyunjin nods sagely. “Of course.” He flashes a quick smile. “So Wednesday at two, yeah? You think you’ll be awake in time?”

“The fact that you have such little faith in me…”

“Can you blame me? You’re not exactly – “

“You two do realise I’m right next to you, right?” Jeongin interjects, voice blowing through both the conversation and Jisung’s ear at a volume that’s _just_ sharp enough to make them both jump. “I mean right next to you. Like Hyunjin’s nasty ass foot is on my lap, that’s how close I am. So if you two could discuss your date later and remember my presence, that would be nice. Just a suggestion for you there.”

Jisung did not, in fact, realise.

He looks away from Hyunjin to offer Jeongin a sheepish smile. The younger only rolls his eyes and pointedly shoves the foot off his lap. Although he does lean into Jisung’s side a moment later, so he knows Jeongin’s not really mad.

When he turns back to the rest of the room at large, Jisung realises they’ve all more or less been paying attention to his conversation with Hyunjin while the two were lost in their own little world. Despite being the ones most vocal about them keeping things PG-13, Chan and Felix are beaming at the two of them like they’ve set eyes on the sun. Over in the corner, Changbin meets Jisung’s eyes with a smaller smile and Seungmin valiantly attempts his own too, though it’s a little strained.

Jisung looks over at the last person in the room and finds Minho silently observing the way Hyunjin is curled up on his lap. He aims a pointed look at where Jisung’s hand is wrapped around Hyunjin’s as they both hold up his phone.

“You wanna get any closer there, Sungie?” he calls out in a low tease.

Cheeks flushing, Jisung drops his hand like he’s been scalded.

Minho laughs, though not unkindly. “Cute.”

Hyunjin shifts as if uncomfortable and Jisung wonders if the attention is getting to him too – but then the microwaves dings in the kitchen to announce that their buttered microwave popcorn is done, causing Felix to immediately screech and scramble out of the room, and the moment shatters.

Wednesday arrives and with it comes a stormy cloud over Seoul. The sky weeps all morning, splattering onto the colourful umbrellas rushing through the streets. It stains the tarmac an even darker, duller grey and lashes into people’s faces as the wind cuts through the air, violent in its sorrow. Though it is nothing more than a coincidence that Jisung wakes up with the same black cloud over his head, one glance outside cements the exhaustion that fogs his mind.

He gets like this sometimes.

Listless and fatigued like all the purpose and drive that usually surges through him has been drained away in the night. It always happens in a muted sort of way where he’s distantly aware of how he shouldn’t be feeling like this, shouldn’t be so tired or worn down, but cannot quite muster up the energy to tackle the problem.

He listens to the alarms wail on his phone, cracking open the stifling silence of his room, and drags them to a stop with a heavy finger. He watches the minutes tick by until he’s going to be too late for his first lecture, is definitely late for his first lecture, has missed his first lecture and the second one too.

And he also thinks about getting ready for the date that hovers in the corner of his eye like a huge, shining exclamation mark that reminds him of its impending arrival. Thinks about crawling out from under his covers, brushing his teeth and dragging a comb through his hair. About digging through his wardrobe to find something warm to wear, about tugging on some waterproof sneakers and lacing them up tight to keep out the rain. About opening the door to his room, leaving his flat and seeing other people.

And he can’t.

He can’t do it. Can’t stomach the thought of being around the watchful eyes of other people or of even putting one toe on his bedroom floor. Of going on this date and having to pull on a smile and gently rib Hyunjin when he throws out a glib remark.

So he rolls over, pulls the covers back over his head, and closes his eyes.

“I swear to God, Han Jisung, if you are not on your deathbed right now – “

Seven minutes past three in the afternoon sees Hyunjin storming into Jisung’s room, dark hair plastered to the back of his neck and his forehead, and a face like thunder beneath it that crackles with anger. He tears the covers off Jisung and meets his expression with visible fury –

And something in it must catch him off-guard because he then falters, the anger dampening within moments.

He looks at him wordlessly for the longest moment before letting the covers fall back down, this time landing just below Jisung’s chest, and casts a glance around the room. Whatever he sees has the fight leave him entirely. Exhaling a heavy sigh, he drops his messenger bag to the ground and shrugs off his coat, hanging it over the radiator to dry.

He comes back to pull the covers off Jisung entirely although the action is much gentler this time.

“C’mon,” he says softly. “Let’s get you up.”

Jisung doesn’t even have the energy to protest. He just lets Hyunjin pull him to his feet and guide him to his en suite. He watches him carefully squeeze out a line of toothpaste on Jisung’s toothbrush which Hyunjin then holds out to him. Jisung simply looks at this too, barely comprehending the gesture.

“Brush your teeth,” Hyunjin says, the instruction firm despite the quietness of his voice.

Like a child following orders, Jisung obediently takes the toothbrush in his hand and begins to brush his teeth. Hyunjin watches him for a moment, as if to make sure that he’s really doing it, and then sets off on his next task. In the corner of his eye, Jisung observes him quickly spray the shower with disinfectant and clean it down before he slips out of the room. He returns a couple of minutes later with a bundle of clothes which he hangs on the command hooks on Jisung’s bathroom door.

Jisung spits a sea of white foam into the basin of his sink and chases it away with a stream of cold water from his tap. Straightening up as he wipes his mouth clean, he turns expectantly to Hyunjin.

“You should get in the shower,” the other says. “It’ll make you feel better. Have you eaten at all today?”

A shake of his head: _no._

A small grimace flits across Hyunjin’s face, almost too quick to catch it. “Right. I’ll sort something out while you’re in here. Don’t take too long, you don’t want to catch a cold when the hot water runs out. Okay?”

For the first time all day, Jisung opens his mouth to speak. His voice is scratchy from disuse, but he manages to croak out an, “Okay,” that has Hyunjin offer him a small smile.

He leaves Jisung to it not a moment later.

After the door clicks shut behind him, Jisung drags his feet over to the shower and reluctantly strips off his clothes. To tell it truthfully, he doesn’t particularly feel up to showering today; he just wants to curl up in his bed and sleep the hours away. But he’s here now and Hyunjin has gone to all this trouble of setting the shower up for him, so Jisung presses his toes against the cold tiling and lets the water rush down to meet his face.

There’s a special power in the act of bathing, don't you think?

Getting under the water is two-thirds the struggle, but once you’re in, it’s like the water just takes everything away. Like the stress rolls off your body in millions of tiny beads that are hunted down the drain, like watching the tips of your fingers shrivel up like prunes and then dragging them through your hair to wash out the shampoo scrubs away at all the dust and smoke in your brain. Like when you step back out of that shower, you’re wearing a new skin.

It’d be a lie to say that he’s completely invigorated afterwards. There’s still something off-kilter inside Jisung when he steps out from under the spray of the shower. Still this niggling urge to just fold in on himself and become as small and as quiet as a mouse. But as he pulls on the soft, clean clothes Hyunjin left him, his mind starts to feel a little clearer.

He leaves the bathroom to find Hyunjin on his hands and knees, dragging a long black pipe underneath Jisung’s bed with gritted teeth. The hoover roars beside him, eager to be used. Jisung looks around at his room and realises for the first time how much he’s neglected it recently.

The plastic bottles that were littering his floor have disappeared without a trace. The clothes he shrugged out of and dumped onto whatever surface was closest – the clothes rack, the bed, the floor – have been collected and placed in the laundry basket or folded into a neat pile on his chair, ready to be put away. His sheets have been changed and his uni work filed away. Dirty dishes have been banished to the kitchen so the pine of his desk can see the light of day again – and see the light of day it does, now that the curtains have been thrown open to display the shower of rain outside, a window cracked open to let in fresh air.

He never even realised it, but he must’ve been sliding into this funk for days now.

Grunting, Hyunjin wrestles the pipe of the hoover free from underneath the bed and sinks back onto the floor, exhausted. It’s only when he twists to switch the hoover off that he notices Jisung there and he startles with a squeak. As the hoover winds down to a stop, the two of them stare at each other.

Then Hyunjin coughs, cheeks flushing. “There’s food on the desk for you,” he mutters, clambering to his feet. He busies himself with packing away the hoover and carefully avoids Jisung’s eyes. “It’s not much. You don’t really have anything in your fridge, and I didn’t want to accidentally poison you so I went with what I could.”

Jisung moves over to the bowl on his desk and lets out a breathless laugh – his first of the day.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, smiling down at the oatmeal that beams back at him, banana slices for eyes and a mouth made of strawberries. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.” Hyunjin doesn’t quite frown at him, but his eyebrows pinch together. “Of course I did. Oh, and I also have cheesecake in my bag because a girl was handing out free samples near the Music Building – something about promotions for the LGBT Society’s bake sale next week, I don’t know – so you can have that when you’re done with this.”

Something in Jisung’s stomach lurches with guilt. He pictures what it must’ve been like for Hyunjin earlier today. Stood at the corner they agreed to meet at, rain drizzling onto his coat, a shiver running down his spine as he ducked his chin into his chest for warmth. He probably practiced how smug his smirk would be when he'd brandish the cheesecake for Jisung, even planning to wave it in front of his face for a gloating minute before he'd finally relinquish his hold.

It took him an hour to storm into Jisung’s flat. How must he have felt as the minutes stretched on and Jisung was nowhere to be seen? When Jisung ignored his texts and his calls while he was out there in the rain, waiting to go on a date he was so excited for? When he realised Jisung was never going to show?

For the first time in his life, Jisung doesn’t even know how to reply.

“I… Thank you,” he says at last, the words small and a little pathetic. “You didn’t… I mean, you shouldn’t have –“ He swallows, looking Hyunjin in the eye despite his trepidations. “I’m sorry for not coming to our date. Especially when you put so much thought into it. I didn’t do it to be mean or to discount all your effort, but whatever my reason was, I’m sorry I left you hanging.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Hyunjin says firmly. He attempts a smile, one that’s not quite as cavalier as he aims for. “Hey, don’t make things awkward and apologise for something so small. We’ve done much worse to each other in the past. What’s missing one fake-date?”

But it wasn’t just one fake-date. It was an outing with a friend, someone Jisung is quickly realising is much more thoughtful than he ever thought he was capable of being. A trip to a café Hyunjin took the time to look into and make sure they would both enjoy.

Jisung hesitates, wondering whether he should press forward with his apology or not. But then he looks at Hyunjin and the way he fidgets under Jisung’s eyes and it’s clear that he’s feeling awkward under all this attention on his actions, so he draws back. Pulls on his own attempt at a teasing grin and plays along.

“This must be what people mean when they talk about growing up then. Making each other oatmeal with a smiley face to cheer them up.”

His smile might not be convincing, but his words do the trick.

Hyunjin flushes within seconds, spluttering, “I – ugh, you – _oh,_ shut up, I was just trying to be nice! See if I ever do it again if you carry on making fun of me like that, you dick!”

“Hey now,” Jisung says with a grin that’s much more genuine. “It’s a nice gesture. I never said I didn’t like it.”

Hyunjin scowls, the tips of his ears still a flaming red. “Shut up and eat it before it gets cold then. You’re not getting the cheesecake until you do.”

Still smiling, Jisung obediently shoves a spoonful into his mouth.

It’s not until that first spoonful of oatmeal hits his tongue that he realises how hungry he really is. His stomach growls, suddenly keenly aware of how empty it is, and Jisung starts to eat more desperately, shovelling the food in. It’s only when Hyunjin shoves a glass of water at him in alarm and tells him to slow the fuck down that he takes a break. Within minutes, the entire bowl is scraped clean.

He slowly lowers the bowl from his face and looks to Hyunjin like a little child. “My stomach hurts.”

“Well, that’ll be because you ate your food like it was about to grow legs and run away from you, idiot. Drink some water and rest before you go for the cheesecake. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

“But – “

“No, no buts. Go lie in bed and get your energy back first.”

“Make me,” Jisung challenges.

Hyunjin merely raises an eyebrow. Without another word, he pushes Jisung back towards the bed. Ignores his indignant yelps in favour of pulling Jisung’s legs up, Hyunjin pushes him back again and again until there’s enough space for him to wriggle into bed too. By the time he’s done, they’re both lying on their backs under the covers.

Jisung gapes at him. “You prick.”

“You told me to do it.” Hyunjin shrugs, fishing his phone out of his pocket to scroll through Twitter. “Don’t ask for something if you can’t handle it when I follow through.”

He huffs, more for the sake of it than in genuine anger. “You’re annoying.”

“Thank you.”

“And irritating.”

“Right back atcha.”

“And maddening.”

“What are you, a Thesaurus? You’re just saying the same thing over and over again.”

Jisung hisses, “You infuriate me.”

“So you’ve said.”

Hyunjin still doesn’t spare him a glance, but the smile he aims at his phone is wide and uninhibited, and it makes Jisung feel warm despite his claims to feel the opposite. He lets out another theatrical huff and flops onto his side to face the wall, his back to the other to better hide his answering grin.

“I hate you,” he can’t help but add.

“Go to sleep, Jisung.”

“No, fuck you,” he shoots back.

He knocks out within three minutes.

When he wakes up a couple of hours later, Jisung realises that he’s sweating. Not like _bucketfuls_ or anything. Sweat isn’t rolling down his back or beading at his neck or something along those lines. But he’s stiflingly hot, wrapped up in what feels like a furnace, and the heat is all that registers in his mind as he slowly comes to. Displeased, he lets out a small grunt and tries to turn his face away from it, but the warmth seems to be everywhere.

“Stop,” he mumbles to no one in particular. “Stop it.”

The next thing Jisung realises is that there’s someone next to him in the bed. No, not just next to him. But on top of him and below him too – fucking _everywhere_ from the feel of it.

There are two arms wrapped tight around his waist, one searing hand splayed on the bare skin of his lower back, just below where his hoodie has ridden up. There’s a cheek pressed against the top of his head, hot air blowing across the strands of his hair to ghost against the curve of his eyelids. Jisung’s nose rests against the column of their neck and his hand curls up in a fist on their chest. The other has snuck its way under the boy’s arm and is being used as a pillow for their shoulder. Their legs are tangled beneath the sheets, interlocked at the ankles.

The third thing Jisung realises is that the last person he remembers being in his room is Hwang Hyunjin.

Despite how heavy they are, Jisung forces his eyes open with a jolt and jerks back – at least as far as the lock around his torso will let him – and yes, there it is. Hyunjin’s sleeping face right next to his, mouth open with the tiniest bubble of drool in the left corner. Jisung wipes it off before he realises what he’s doing and jerks away again.

Hyunjin makes a noise of dissent and turns over, pulling Jisung back towards him.

“Hyunjin, _stop,_ ” he whispers furiously. He pushes at his shoulder, trying to shove him away, but the guy’s apparently a damn boulder when he’s asleep because he doesn’t budge. Like in the slightest. “Hyunjin, you dickhead, I’m boiling! Get _off me!”_

Jisung doesn’t really know what hissing at him is going to do, especially because he doesn’t actually want to wake him up, but he still swears under his breath as he shoves at the literal _barnacle_ that is Hwang Hyunjin. After a full minute of struggling, the only thing that’s changed is that he’s worn out and even warmer from the mini-workout.

“I hate you,” he informs a still slumbering Hyunjin.

If he somehow hears him, Hyunjin shows no sign of it. He just lets out a small snuffle and pushes his nose into the pillow. Jisung shoots him a scowl before he resigns to his fate with a sigh. It looks like he’ll just have to be a professional teddy bear for now. Who cares if he roasts to death in the process? Hyunjin clearly doesn’t.

For the next half an hour, Jisung busies himself with scrolling through social media. Mindlessly retweeting viral tweets, liking the posts of people he’s following on Instagram (only the ones who like his posts too, of course, inconsistent though they may be) and swiping through his friends’ stories on Snapchat. From the looks of things, Changbin is out for drinks with his fellow 99 liners – Jisung recognises Jung Wooyoung, Kang Yeosang and Changbin’s housemate Yeonjun out of the several boys cheering for the camera – while Minho and Chan are having a quiet night in. Jeongin uploaded something twenty minutes prior about how studying for Maths has him ready to go feral, but Felix and Seungmin are in higher spirits, trying out some fancy new restaurant in Hongdae.

Seeing the food Felix has proudly displayed makes Jisung realise that he’s hungry again so he looks up a nearby pizza place that he’s fond of and orders two meat feasts to be delivered to the flat. Just as he’s checked out, Hyunjin lets out a small whine and wriggles his head into the crook of Jisung’s neck.

“’S too bright,” he mumbles. “Turn that light off.”

“It’s my phone, dipshit,” Jisung says, though the bite in his words is diminished by how quietly he says them.

“Then turn your phone off,” says Hyunjin. He’s clearly half-asleep if the way his voice drifts off towards the end suggests anything. He pushes closer to Jisung with a content sigh. “Soft.”

His shoulders tense. Sure, it’s one thing to cuddle when they’re asleep, but he and Hyunjin have never been this close. Aside from one sleepover when they were seven years old anyways. He can’t help but feel awkward, but he pushes it aside in favour of mock indignation.

“I don’t care how soft I am, you can get off me,” he grumbles, poking at Hyunjin’s tummy. He flinches with another soft whine. “If you’re awake, there’s no need for you to suffocate me anymore. Go on, move.”

“You’re being _mean._ ”

Okay yeah, he’s definitely still half-asleep. There’s no way Hyunjin is going to sound that petulant with him if he’s in his right mind. Right? As if following his train of thought, Hyunjin pulls his head back to squint at him through barely open eyes.

Jisung meets his gaze with raised eyebrows. “Yeah?”

He’s quiet for a long second. Then, with visible confusion, he asks blearily, “Why is your face so close to me?”

His mouth falls open, incredulous. Is this guy for real? Does he have no concept of spatial awareness _at all?_

“You’re the one lying on top of me!” Jisung exclaims. “I tried to push you off, but you wouldn’t let me go!”

Hyunjin seems to think this over for a moment. He even lifts his head to look down at where their legs are entangled underneath the covers. He turns back, still squinting groggily before he shrugs and collapses just to the right of Jisung, arms hooked loosely around his waist.

“Oh right. You’re warm, that makes sense.”

“Yah,” Jisung says, prodding at his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to get off me now that you’re awake?”

“No. You’re warm.”

… Motherfucker.

“I hate you, you know that, right?”

He nods sleepily. “Yeah. But you’re still soft and warm so.”

Jisung looks at him in disbelief. Is he really just going to… lie in Jisung’s bed and cuddle him? Like that’s something they normally do? Like this isn’t going from zero to fifty real quick?

Apparently he is.

And apparently Jisung is going to let him because once again, he simply sighs and picks up his phone. He doesn’t have the energy to push Hyunjin away from him, even if the weight of his arms is making his skin feel warm and sticky underneath his hoodie. Today’s been a long and weird day anyways. What’s one more oddity stacked on top of it all?

Maybe that’s why Jisung doesn’t think twice before he shoves one of the pizza boxes at Hyunjin when they arrive later – the boy now much more awake and quietly scrolling through his own notifications – and they settle down to eat dinner together in his bed, laughing over memes and mindlessly talking. Hyunjin does his best impression of his Dance Technique I teacher – _Jump higher, Bae Jinyoung, jump HIGHER!_ – that has them doubling over with laughter. Jisung counters that with a dramatic retelling of his History of Music lecturer’s sudden tangent on how his high school sweetheart left him for an accountant because she thought musicians were too fickle.

Maybe that’s why, after they’ve devoured their food and he’s finally feasted on the cheesecake he was promised, he suggests that they watch a show together since they’re already here and don’t have anything else to do. Hyunjin eagerly pulls up _Stranger Things_ when Jisung grabs his laptop and the two binge-watch four episodes of the first season before their eyes start to protest, too sore from the glare of the screen.

Maybe that’s why, when Hyunjin reluctantly starts to slide out of bed – eyes drooping, shoulders hunched up against the cold bite of the night, whining about how long the walk to his room feels – Jisung says he can just crash here instead.

Hyunjin freezes, arms crossed over his sides to ward off the cold. “Um,” he says haltingly. “I…”

A violent blush explodes across Jisung’s cheeks. He prays that Hyunjin can’t see it now that there’s no light from the laptop to illuminate him. Maybe he’s gotten a bit _too_ comfortable today. They’ve only just started to be friends, maybe he should at least wait a few weeks before he offers up his bed to someone he claimed to hate for roughly fifteen years.

“Or not,” he rushes to say. “You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to, I just – I thought maybe – like you’re already here and there’s space and we’re – It’s cold,” he finishes lamely. He clears his throat and repeats, “It’s cold. So… so if you wanted to stay, you could. I won’t kick you out or anything. That’s all.”

Hyunjin stays quiet. There’s not enough light in the room to see his expression – whether he’s grimacing uncomfortably or even looking at Jisung – and the silence lasts long enough to become awkward.

Unable to bear it for any longer, Jisung opens his mouth to say something _. Anything._ Whatever can break the tension, whether it’s a stupid joke or something completely out of left field, he doesn’t know. As long as it gets the job done, he’ll take anything.

“You know what, just – “

“Okay.”

Jisung falters. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Hyunjin repeats. “I mean… it’s just sleeping over, right? Nothing weird about that, friends have sleepovers all the time.”

“Yes. They do. And we’re friends.”

“Well,” he says, stretching out the word teasingly before he laughs, loud and high. Just like that, the tension flees the room and Jisung relaxes, responding with a grin of his own. “Yeah, we’re friends. I don’t just make oatmeal for anyone after all.”

“My hero,” Jisung says, pressing a hand against his chest and pretending to swoon. He rolls out of bed and heads towards his closet in search for his baggiest items of clothing, flicking on the lamp as he passes his desk. “Here, I’ll get you something to wear. I don’t have a spare toothbrush or anything, but there’s mouthwash on top of my sink that you can use instead, you probably saw it earlier. These should fit right?”

He turns to pass Hyunjin a loose t-shirt and some shorts of his that came a couple of sizes too big and he forgot to return. Hyunjin takes them with a shrug before breaking out into a smile. He’s close enough now for Jisung to see the mischievous charm to the crow's feet around his eyes.

“It’ll be fine. If they don’t, I’ll just sleep next to you naked instead. We _are_ boyfriends, after all.”

Rolling his eyes, Jisung shoves him towards the en suite. “You dare walk out of there without clothes on and I swear to God, you won’t leave my room with your dick still attached,” he warns.

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep them on! No need for such violent threats, jeez.”

With one last laugh, Hyunjin disappears into the bathroom. Jisung remains where he’s standing for a second, just directing a small, fond smile at the door. Then he turns to slide back into bed, his heart and mind a lot lighter than when he first woke up that morning.

They don’t discuss how Hyunjin spent the night.

When Jisung wakes up the next morning, it’s to an empty bed, the sheets long cold on the other side, and a text from Hyunjin explaining how he had a 9am lecture and will see him at lunch. He doesn’t mention falling asleep with his head next to Jisung’s or how their bodies edged closer as the night got colder, and neither does he. In fact, he doesn’t reply at all.

In the bright light of day, it’s a lot easier to recall the events of the previous night with nothing but pure embarrassment. The way Jisung fumbled over his invitation for Hyunjin to sleep over; the way he fit into the cocoon of Hyunjin’s arms like he was content to lay there; the way they giggled deliriously into his pillows as they tried to fall asleep, elbows accidentally catching in each other’s sides whenever they shifted to change positions and Jisung’s dramatic winces whenever Hyunjin’s cold feet brushed against his. Something must’ve possessed the two of them yesterday for them to behave so weirdly, there’s no doubt about that.

So no, Jisung doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what he’d even say.

Lunchtime arrives after he suffers through a lecture he doesn’t particularly want to attend but does anyways. It’s long and it’s dry and he yawns more times in a minute than is socially acceptable – enough so that the girl next to him offers to send him her notes on Facebook since he’s pretty much missed at least eighty percent of what's been said.

By the time Jisung trudges into the restaurant his friends have agreed to meet up at (everyone except their little high schooler Jeongin anyways), he’s desperate for at least _some_ form of entertainment. He doesn’t even care if he’s the one clowned. He’ll take that L if it means his mind doesn’t go numb from boredom.

“Hyunjin not here yet?” he asks when he realises he doesn’t see his messy head of hair anywhere.

Minho jabs a thumb in the direction of the window. “Isn’t that him there?”

Jisung follows his line of sight to see Hyunjin scurrying across the busy road like an idiot. He narrowly avoids a car that angrily blares past and shouts out what looks like an apology, cheeks dark, but when he turns back, it’s with a sheepish grin. He looks far more alive than Jisung feels, that’s for sure. He watches Hyunjin push through the double doors of the restaurant, eyes lighting up when he spots Chan and Felix obnoxiously waving their hands through the air for his attention.

When he arrives at their table, it’s with a hug for Jisung. It’s more for the benefit of their friends than in genuine affection although he does embrace him for a couple of beats longer than he needs to.

“You feeling okay today?” he asks quietly in Jisung’s ear.

He pulls back to offer a smile, small but genuine. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Alright lovebirds,” Changbin interrupts, leaning back in his seat to wave a menu in between their faces. “You can whisper your sweet nothings later. Now’s the time to sit down and order something to eat – _quickly_ before my stomach decides to eat itself. I’m so hungry, I could eat three camels and a cow in one sitting.”

“Why not four camels?” Felix asks curiously. “Surely that makes more sense?”

He is promptly ignored.

“Yeah,” Seungmin says, speaking over Lix with a teasing grin that he directs towards Changbin. “Hyung’s already chosen what he wants to eat which is how you _know_ we’re running late.”

“Oh ha, _ha._ Very funny. I’m not even that bad.”

“Yes, you are,” they all chorus.

Changbin throws down his menu with a sigh. “None of you appreciate me.”

“I appreciate you hyung,” says Jisung, throwing his arms around his hyung from the back. When Changbin elbows him off, he retreats with a rebuking pout. “You never want to accept my love.”

“Give it to Hyunjin.”

“Uh, who is that again?”

Their friends break out into laughter just as he wanted them to. Hyunjin swipes at Jisung in reprimand, though his laugh is just as loud and as bright as the rest of theirs, and his hand falls to find his seconds later. Their fingers interlock easily. When they do, Hyunjin squeezes their hands together just the once as if to say _I’m here._ As if to remind Jisung that he has someone to fall back on if things get too hard for him to cope with.

Jisung doesn’t turn to look him in the eye, but he squeezes back in reply.

The two claim seats on Felix’s side of the table, Jisung shoulder-to-shoulder with Minho and Hyunjin in a booth meant for six people at a push. He ends up ordering himself some hot and spicy chicken wings while Hyunjin grabs some stacked beef burger that gives him high levels of cholesterol just from looking at it. He gags exaggeratedly throughout Hyunjin’s Snapchat photoshoot, at least until Minho shoves a piece of buffalo chicken into his open mouth and he chokes on that instead.

“What the – _hyung!”_

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Minho says casually, as if he didn’t almost send Jisung to an early grave. “Best buffalo chicken I’ve had on this side of Seoul.”

“Bro, how am I meant to know how it tasted when all I know is that I choked on it? It tastes like death as far as I’m concerned. _Death._ ”

Minho laughs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, you big baby.” He cuts free a large piece of chicken and makes sure to coat it in the sauce before holding it out. “Here, try it again. Tell me it’s not good, I dare you.”

Jisung opens his mouth wide like a little child and waits patiently. Smiling softly, Minho delivers the food the remaining thirty centimetres to his mouth and Jisung pulls it off the fork with a happy hum. He chews thoughtfully, making sure to savour the taste like a professional critic at a brand new restaurant.

“It’s good,” he admits.

Minho smirks like he stormed into the kitchen to cook it himself. “Didn’t I say so? Don’t ever doubt me.”

“Of course hyung,” Jisung says gravely. He throws a murderous look at the monstrosity Hyunjin is eagerly devouring to his left. “It was better than Hyunjin’s heart attack in a meal at the very least.”

The boy in question glares. “Whatever,” he grumbles – or tries to anyways. The effect is somewhat ruined by the huge bite of food in his mouth that inflates his cheeks into two balloons.

A spot of sauce stubbornly clings to the corner of his mouth and Jisung leans over to clean it without thinking much of it. Hyunjin makes a noise of dissent and tries to bat him away, but Jisung ducks past his arms to wipe it off. He licks the sauce off his thumb, ignoring Chan’s noise of disgust from across the table.

“It’s not even that good,” he says, unimpressed.

“You’re not even that good,” Hyunjin retorts.

“That doesn’t make any sense, idiot.”

“It makes perfect sense, loser. You’re just too dumb to understand it.”

As mature as ever, Jisung blows a raspberry at him in reply.

“You’re a child, Han Jisung,” Hyunjin scoffs, though the smile that teases the corners of his mouth suggests that he’s not complaining too hard about it. “An absolute child.”

“A child you’re dating.”

Hyunjin smirks. “Who said it’s willingly?” At Jisung’s incredulous gasp, he raises an eyebrow as if challenging him to refute it.

“Now now,” Minho interjects teasingly, startling the two out of their stare down. “Let’s not bring up our relationship issues at the table. It’s not very polite of you.”

He’s only joking, of course, but their friends react to this with a loud, dramatic gasp in unison. Jisung rolls his eyes as they let out their various cries – _“_ Trouble in paradise? Say it isn’t so!” – and sits back in amusement to watch them go on with themselves. They find their jokes much funnier than they probably are – more than the other customers at the restaurant think they are, that’s for sure – and drag the gag on for longer than they should, but Jisung feels fond all the same.

The Jisung of yesterday – lost, lonely and listless – seems so far away now. A relic of the past who doesn’t feel quite so real anymore; a shadow of a person who shrinks away from the brightness and cheer of his friends.

“Are you guys done now?” he asks when things seem to have finally settled down.

“Why?” Chan replies with a cheeky grin. He waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously, causing Jisung to cry out in disgust and kick his leg to get him to stop. “Are you feeling protective about your man?”

“I am _not_ his man,” says Hyunjin at the same time Jisung scoffs, “He’s not my man. Unlike _some_ people, we don’t believe in the practice of objectifying our partner in this relationship. Neither of us are objects to be owned, thank you very much.”

Unsurprisingly, this statement just sets their friends off again.

Jisung can’t even find it in himself to be mad.

They don’t discuss how Hyunjin spent the night.

But later when the seven of them have ate their fill and are ambling back to campus for whatever is next on their schedules – a seminar for Jisung, dissertation meetings for Chan, the library for anyone who doesn’t have a class to run off to – Hyunjin slows down enough that he and Jisung end up hanging back from the rest of the group. Jisung turns to him with a questioning frown, only to find Hyunjin avoiding his eyes. His cheeks are suspiciously pink.

“So you know how we keep going out for our dates?” he says, determinedly looking ahead at the others. “Like to cafes and bowling and stuff?”

“Uh. Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking,” he says, “and I realised that maybe it’s not fair of me to expect you to keep going to places when you might not be comfortable with it. So I figured we should cut down on having dates outside and we could do other stuff instead.”

Jisung looks at him quizzically. He’s never thought of the dates like that. Sure, sometimes he feels queasy before he leaves the flat and he clearly tanked hard yesterday, but in his head, Hyunjin has been pretty accommodating of him. He’s never been forced into anything he _hated,_ and they’ve always had a nice time in the end.

But because his curiosity has been piqued, he asks, “Like what?”

“Like – “ His hand shifts in Jisung’s hold. “I don’t know, like a movie night or something. We can go out somewhere for one of the dates and then stay in on the other one. Kinda like we did yes – yesterday.”

It’s the closest they’ve gotten to approaching the topic of last night. Hyunjin’s cheeks darken as if realising this and Jisung flushes with warmth all over in response. He drops his eyes away from Hyunjin and looks down in embarrassment, aimlessly kicking a stray stone with the tip of his shoe.

“That – That’d be nice,” he says quietly. “I’d like that.”

Hyunjin nods. “Good. That’s… good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, and falls quiet.

The two of them walk in silence, hand-in-hand and inexplicably bashful, until Chan yells at them to hurry up from where the rest of the group waits for them by the traffic light ahead. Just before Jisung can break out into a brisk walk – not a run, _never_ a run – Hyunjin squeezes his hand to grab his attention. Jisung turns to him again with a questioning hum.

“You cool with a movie night this weekend then?” Hyunjin asks. He still seems nervous, but his eyes are steady on Jisung’s regardless. “I’ll text you with the details if you are.”

Jisung nods. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Your place or mine?”

“Mine works if that’s cool with you.”

“That’s cool with me,” he confirms.

Hyunjin smiles then, warm and wide. His teeth flash in the sunlight. “Good. I’m glad.”

“What was that all about?” Felix asks a handful of minutes later as he and Jisung make their way towards the West Building together. The group dispersed into several directions once they reached campus so it’s just the two of them now. Clearly, Felix has pounced upon the opportunity in search of some answers. “You and Hyunjin, I mean. You guys looked kinda serious back there.”

“Oh that? It was nothing. Just about a date we’re planning.”

“Oh right. So it had nothing to do with the fact that I saw Hyunjin sneaking out of your room this morning then?”

It takes Jisung a second for the words to register in his head, but when they do, he flushes red and shoves Felix away from him. His best friend stumbles back with a loud laugh. When Jisung advances on him, hands eager to wrestle him into a headlock, his laugh only grows louder as he does his best to fend him off.

“It’s not what you think!” Jisung exclaims, voice cracking in the middle.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Felix says in a tone that suggests otherwise. Somehow, he manages to sound just as infuriating even when he has all 169 cm of Han Jisung on his back, doing his best to wind him. “Just remember to always use proper protection. Even if pregnancy’s not on the table for you guys, STDs are a very real risk and – _ow,_ ow, that hurt, Sungie! Okay, okay, I’ll stop, just – ow, _Sungie, I said I’ll stop!_ Don’t _kill_ me!”

“Don’t get killed then!” he shoots back.

They topple to the ground seconds later, their seminars all but forgotten.

They don’t discuss how Hyunjin spent the night.

But then Jisung comes over on Saturday evening and they curl up in Hyunjin’s bed to watch the fifth and sixth episodes of _Stranger Things_ followed by the ever classic _Spirited Away_ and the atmosphere is really nice and natural.

It seems like such an underwhelming word to describe it: nice.

Nice is not as enthusiastic as great, nor as flattering as amazing. It doesn’t scream of excitement or explode with passion. It’s just… nice. But _nice_ is what the evening is – a pleasant easy-going night where they yell at the laptop screen and eat their weight in popcorn and Pringles. Where Jisung doesn’t need to worry about whether the dark circles under his eyes are properly concealed or whether his outfit is cute enough to impress all five hundred and thirty six people who watch Hyunjin’s Snapchat stories. All he does is sit under the covers next to Hyunjin, their knees pressed together, and scream at Nancy to run as fast as she fucking can.

And he feels nice.

Content.

By the time the ending credits of _Spirited Away_ scroll across the screen of Hyunjin’s laptop, his eyes are struggling to stay open as if there are weights pressing down on them. He mumbles something about how he’s going to rest for just the one minute before he leaves and then the next thing he knows, Hyunjin’s shaking him awake. When he opens his eyes, it’s to a pitch-black room.

“It’s two am,” Hyunjin mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

Jisung struggles to string together a coherent sentence. “Oh right – um, I’ll just… I’ll just – where’s my shoe, I’ll go home – “

“Shhhh,” Hyunjin says, clumsily pressing a hand over Jisung’s mouth. He moves it to pat Jisung’s cheek although it lands on his ear more so than his face. “Just sleep here, I have clothes and a toothbrush. It’s new.”

And in the face of an offer like that, who is Jisung to turn it down?

The rest of the night is a series of images to him. Brushing his teeth while he slumps against the wall of Hyunjin’s en suite, just as small and as crappy as his own three floors above; changing into a clean set of pyjamas, the trouser legs brushing against the floor because they’re so damn long; crawling into bed and then forcing his way into Hyunjin’s arms when he follows suit.

He doesn’t think much of it, not even when he curls up against Hyunjin’s chest and just listens to the melodic pace of his heart. Or when he hooks his hand around the curve of Hyunjin’s waist. Feels the calm path of his fingers in Jisung’s hair. Smells the peppermint on the enamel of his teeth.

“This is nice,” Jisung sighs and then promptly falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [inhales] the ship is about to set sail folks, it's about to SET SAIL
> 
> this entire chapter was something i had in mind from the very beginning so i hope you enjoyed it bc i'm uploading this right now like :) is this even good :) am i just shit :) bc i feel shit :) bc we all know we love those insecurities of ours haha. anyways lemme know what you thought bc you know i love interacting with readers. i'll see you next time (whenever that may be lmaoo i'm sorry for being so shitty with updates, but these chapters take a long time to write and i don't want to just write something crap for the sake of updating). also!! who's pumped for this new comeback bc it looks amaaaazing i'm gonna scream
> 
> 04/10/20: minor edits made
> 
> [[twitter](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy)] | [[cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjasmine)] | [[jilix au](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy/status/1236466231902900224)]


	4. four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jisung is uncomfortable
> 
> (that's it. that's the chapter. someone send my boy some love.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i have mentioned before, i am british. which means i use the word mum instead of mom which i get can be jarring to see in a fic, but i am, like, physically incapable of not using it in the description and writing mom threatens my pride as a brit [insert huffing emojis] so apologies if that trips you up! i tend to use "eomma" whenever the characters are addressing their mums which might also trip you up, but i figure if i use hyung, what's wrong with using eomma? you probably don't care about this, but i'm telling you about my reasoning anyways.

**FOUR.**

“So,” says Jisung’s mother conversationally between two languid sips of her peppermint tea, “I heard something interesting from Yang Jungsook the other day.”

Mouth filled with French toast, Jisung can only make a questioning noise in response. Truth be told, he’s not convinced Jeongin’s mother _did_ actually say anything interesting the other day – at least, not interesting enough for his tastes. But he didn’t haul his ass home at the crack of dawn to surprise his mum with a visit when she returned from her overnight shift just to dismiss her like this. His eyes are so tired that they feel like they have sand in them and his breath is most certainly stale as hell, but by God he will force himself to stay awake for their breakfast together.

“Apparently her son told her that _my_ son is dating someone.”

Jisung freezes.

“And not just someone,” his mum continues, “but little Hyunjinnie from across the street.”

Well, shit. He’s definitely awake now.

Swallowing the half-chewed lump of toast in his mouth, Jisung meets her eyes guiltily. “Uh… he’s not really that little,” he offers in pathetic reply before hastening to clear up, “That came out wrong! I didn’t mean that in a sexual way, I promise!”

“Dear lord, I didn’t think you did,” his mother splutters.

“We haven’t even – _I_ haven’t even – “

“Sungie baby _stop,_ I just meant I’ve seen the kid grow up with you, that’s all,” she says, horrified. She puts down her tea and looks at him sternly from across the table, hands on her hips. Her scrubs rustle under the touch of her hands. “Do we need to have a serious conversation about this?”

Jisung would literally rather die _._

“No!” he bursts out. “God, no! Please don’t put me through that, once was bad enough.”

“Well, last time you didn’t have a boyfriend – “

“Eomma trust me, I don’t need it again, I’m begging you.”

“I don’t know,” she says, but the grin that spreads across her face tells the room she’s only teasing. She reaches for her tea again and snickers into the mug. “I feel like it’ll be very educational.”

“I’m about to book a ticket on the next train back at this rate,” he says, half-serious. “Please don’t do this to me.”

She pretends to think about it, humming exaggeratedly with a finger resting upon her puckered mouth. Forget being a nurse, his mother clearly belongs on the West End.

At last, she acquiesces, “I _suppose_ I’m feeling charitable today… since I’ve missed my baby boy and all.” She punctuates this with a pinch of his cheeks, grinning wickedly when he whines in protest. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten how you’ve hidden this from me, young man. Does this mean I’m not cool enough for you to tell me when you get into a relationship? Am I not hip and down with the kids?”

“Anyone who calls themselves ‘hip and down with the kids’ is immediately not cool.”

“So you don’t love me then?” she challenges with a jut of her chin. “And here I thought we had a good mother-son relationship – “

“You are _so_ dramatic.”

“Who do you think you got it from, Sungie?”

Touché.

Not wanting to grace that with a reply, Jisung redirects the conversation to where it was earlier. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Hyunjin and I are just seeing how things go, that’s all.”

“Fair enough,” she says, rounding the table to perch on the edge of it next to him.

She runs a hand through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. Jisung sinks into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Small gestures like this – his mother ruffling his hair, the scent of her skin underneath the sharp mint of the sterilising soap on her hands – is what he missed so much this week. Having his own place is great, even if his accommodation isn’t the flashiest in the world, but being home just hits differently. It’s nice when it’s just the two of them bantering back and forth at eight am, a time when Jisung otherwise tends to be dead to the world.

“Still, I can’t say I expected Hwang Hyunjin. I don’t think there’s anyone in the world that used to get so under your skin like that boy, even if you were still friends while he did it. His mother and I talk about it all the time.”

Jisung shrugs. He can’t exactly provide the same explanation they gave to their friends – that Jisung and Hyunjin first started making out with each other after fighting before they decided to give a romantic relationship a try – because he’s pretty sure he would die of embarrassment. Especially because he really _would_ get the talk a second time round if he did that. 100% guaranteed.

“I dunno,” he finally says. “I guess we just needed to grow up to fully appreciate each other.”

“Well, that’s very mature of you. I’m proud.” She drops a kiss to the top of his head. “And as long as you’re happy, so am I. Hyunjin’s a good kid. He has his head screwed on right. I’m sure he’ll be good for you.”

“He is.”

He’s not even faking it when he agrees.

Hyunjin _has_ been good for him. For someone who was notoriously the opposite, he’s now oddly patient with Jisung, knowing when to push his boundaries and when to simply make allowances for them. And he’s unexpectedly tender at times too. He can just as easily give Jisung a piggyback ride home from a date (in his defence, it was raining and he was wearing really expensive canvas shoes he couldn’t get wet, okay?) as he can put him down by collapsing backwards onto Jisung’s bed and crushing his ribs in the process. Spending time with him is thoughtless and easy. It calms his head a little.

“Good,” his mother says with one last kiss she presses to Jisung’s cheek. She pulls back with a yawn and rubs her eyes. “Right. I need to hop in the shower and go to sleep, I am nearly dead on my feet. Don’t be afraid to wake me up if you need anything though.”

“I should be okay, but sure. Go to bed, eomma, you deserve it.”

He watches her disappear up the stairs before whipping out his phone and clicking on his last set of messages. His thumbs fly across the keyboard.

**< Me **

_CODE RED CODE RED WE HAVE A CODE RED_

_!!!!!_

_ANSWER YOUR PHONE DICKFACE_

**> Babe <3 <3 <3**

_tf is a code red u egghead_

**< Me **

_an emergency obviously??????_

_WHICH WE CURRENTLY ARE IN_

_I AM PANICKING_

_PANCIKGHIJN I TELL YUO_

**> Babe <3 <3 <3**

_i can see that_

_what’s the emergency lol_

_didn’t u and seungmin go back home this morning, shouldn’t things be going great_

**< Me**

_they were_

_until i found out that my mum ran into innie’s mum and now knows we’re dating_

_which means_

**> Babe <3 <3 <3**

_that my parents know too_

**< Me **

_yes_

**> Babe <3 <3 <3**

_shit._

**< Me **

_shit :))))_

The first day he spends back at home is pretty uneventful – just the way Jisung wants it to be. He purposefully didn’t bring any of his uni stuff with him, at least aside from his laptop anyway, because he intends on being an irresponsible student and not working all weekend.

Instead, he just binge-watches _Fullmetal Alchemist_ in his bedroom while he waits for his mother to wake up and then happily follows her around the house when she does. Even if it does mean doing chores, it’s nice to just be in the same space as her. Between Jisung moving out for university and his mother’s demanding work schedule, they don’t get to be like this very often anymore. As much as he likes his independence, he still misses being pampered at home.

He goes to sleep when she leaves for another bank shift and wakes up to a house that is still quiet. After a couple of hours of lazing around in bed, he gets up and heads for the shower. With the way he’s smelling right now, it’s probably the first thing he should’ve done upon waking up to be frank.

Maybe it’s a habit from having his own en suite in uni, maybe it’s because he knows he has the entire house to himself, but Jisung doesn’t bother to take much more than his phone and a towel with him. His phone because there’s nothing better than putting it on Do Not Disturb mode and blasting his bath-time playlist even if the shower drowns most of it out; his towel because… well, for obvious reasons really.

By the time he’s left the bathroom, Jisung is in much more productive spirits. Rather than just shutting himself inside today, he thinks he’ll make a day out of being back home. He can text Jeongin to meet up for a few hours – he’s sure the younger is desperate for any distraction if his frazzled Snapchat stories suggest anything – then come back to the house to wheedle his mum into going out to eat at Changbin’s family’s restaurant since they always get discounts there. Then in the evening, they can stick on a shitty b-grade movie and eat homemade nachos until their stomachs protest.

Yes, that sounds like the perfect plan. Nothing but hours of good vibes and pure relaxation, no spanner in the works or –

“Jisung.”

He is not ashamed to admit that he screams _._

Hyunjin – motherfucking Hwang Hyunjin of all goddamn people – jumps, flailing backwards onto Jisung’s bed, and screams right back.

“WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?”

“WHY ARE _YOU_ HERE?” Jisung shrieks. He stumbles away until his back is flat against his bedroom door, the wood cool against the dampness of his skin, and presses a hand to his chest. His heart races as fast as a jackrabbit underneath. “You’re meant to be in Seoul, you fucking creep! Why are you lurking in my bedroom while I’m in the shower?”

Hyunjin has the audacity to gasp in indignation.

“I’m not lurking in your bedroom!”

“Yes you are, you dumbass!”

“No, I’m not! You weren’t answering the door and my calls weren’t going through to your phone so I could tell you to open it! Then I saw your window was open so I climbed through it instead – what else was I meant to do?”

“Why are you even _here_ in the first place?”

At that, Hyunjin seems to visibly pale. Wordlessly, he fishes his phone out of the pocket of his joggers, unlocks it, and holds it out for Jisung to read. Unable to do much more than squint uselessly at it from this distance, Jisung moves closer until he’s sat next to him on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, and can peer properly at the screen.

On it are a series of texts between Hyunjin and his mother. The first is a seemingly innocent comment about seeing Jisung return home to surprise his own mum. When all Hyunjin replies with is _yeah he mentioned something about wanting to do that lol_ , Mrs Hwang gets more and more pointed with her remarks until she all but demands Hyunjin to come home and formally introduce Jisung to her as his boyfriend.

**< Me**

_but you already know jisung???_

_you’ve known him ever since he was 4 years old???_

_literally what would this accomplish_

**> Eomma <333**

_Well he wasn’t your boyfriend when he was four years old, was he?_

_Pretty much the opposite in fact_

_So I’ll see the two of you tomorrow x_

**< Me**

_wdym eomoni_

_i didn’t even agree to this_

**> Eomma <333**

_Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow baby xxx_

_Dress warm xxx_

“She’s a master of persuasion,” Hyunjin whispers, blankly staring off into the distance.

“And because you’re too much of a coward to go home and see her just yet, you decided to break into my house instead?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough,” says Jisung after a moment.

Growing up in the same street as Hyunjin has taught him at least one thing about his mother. That Hwang Eunju may weigh less than 50kg when soaking wet and strapped down with sandbags; she may scarcely top five feet when her hair is done up nicely – but she is nothing short of formidable. She’s a tiger mum through and through and always manages to get her way. If she wants Hyunjin to formally present his boyfriend to her, by God will he do it.

“I didn’t expect this to get back to her,” Hyunjin admits, breaking the silence of the room. He looks down at their feet – Jisung’s bare, his toes shrivelled like prunes after his shower, Hyunjin’s hidden away behind the laces of his trainers – and knocks his left ankle against Jisung’s. “I should’ve realised our parents would’ve heard about it eventually, but… I don’t know, I just never factored that into our decision.”

“I get you,” Jisung says. “When we’re at uni, our life here seems so far away. So much happens there that our parents will never know about so it only makes sense that we’d think this would be another one of them.”

“Exactly. But I guess if we’ve already committed to it this hard, adding them to the equation isn’t much different.”

Hyunjin attempts a smile that is not quite as brave as he probably intends it to be, but Jisung chooses not to comment on that and replies with one of his own. Truthfully, there’s something just a _smidgeon_ uncomfortable about lying to their parents to this extent. It’s one thing for Jisung to tell his mum offhandedly that he’s trying something out with Hyunjin; quite another to be formally introduced to the Hwangs as their son’s boyfriend.

But that’s not what either of them need to hear right now.

So without thinking much about it, Jisung reaches over to squeeze Hyunjin’s hand in comfort and agrees, “It’ll be fine. It’s nothing we haven’t done before. In a few years’ time, we’ll let everyone in on the joke and laugh about it together.”

This seems to do the trick in cheering Hyunjin up because he visibly brightens and squeezes Jisung’s hand in return.

“It’ll be the funniest scene ever when we tell all of them,” he exclaims. “No one in our group will be able to top this one.”

“Ugh, I can already see their faces. I can’t wait until we break it to them, it’s gonna be gold.”

“Who do you think will have the best reaction? I’m guessing Changbin hyung.”

“No way,” Jisung scoffs. “It’ll be Felix, hands down. He’s pretty much convinced you have me half-naked the second his back is turned.”

“Don’t I?” Hyunjin says, laying the grease on thick while he playfully waggles his eyebrows.

He casts a pointed look at Jisung’s attire – if it can even be called that. With a start, he realises he’s still wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. And _incredibly loosely_ for that matter _._ He squeaks, jerking away from Hyunjin with a hand flying to the hem of the towel to secure it in place. It’s not like Hyunjin hasn’t seen him shirtless before, but this is a bit _too_ comfortable even for them.

“And that’s your cue to go home,” he says loudly, shoving at his shoulder. “Go on, let me know how it goes when your mum finally gets her hands on you.”

Hyunjin’s laugh cuts off as his eyes grow wide in their terror. “No, no, you can’t kick me out yet! Please Jisung, you have no idea how obnoxious she’s going to be. I’m not ready to face that yet – “

“Too bad. Sucks to be you, I guess, but it doesn’t change my decision so goodbye, it was nice seeing you.“

“Jisung no, you need to let me stay here and prepare myself for at least another hour, I beg you – “

“You can keep begging me, I don’t care.”

Hyunjin latches onto his arm like a drowning man would seek purchase on a lifeboat. Tugging him closer, he decides to switch tactics and coat his words with honey. His eyes are still wide, but now they’re like chocolate-drop pies, deep brown and sugary-sweet, and his lips push forward into a pout. He edges closer with a noise that is undoubtedly meant to be cute. Yet all Jisung can feel is pure horror as he stares at him.

“Jisung,” he wheedles. “Sung.”

“Get off me.”

“Don’t do this to me, Hannie,” he says, moving even closer. His hands slide up Jisung’s arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, to wrap around his shoulders as he presses forward. Jisung’s attempt to jerk back is cut short by the tightening of Hyunjin’s arms, the pressure of his forehead resting against the edge of his temple. “I’m your boyfriend, remember? You should treat me nicely, protect me from harm when I need it.”

“ _Harm?_ We’re talking about your mother here!”

“Have you met her?” he says flatly.

Jisung rolls his eyes. “You’re being overdramatic. It’s not going to be that bad.”

“I still remember how she was when I dated Seungmin.” He grimaces. “It _is_ going to be that bad.”

“Well, that sounds like a problem that only you will be facing, so I – “

As he’s speaking (and trying to detangle himself from Hyunjin without compromising his virtue, you know how it is), Hyunjin begins to whine softly again, muttering every obnoxious nickname under the sun as if that’ll somehow sway him. But before either of them can up the ante, the sound of keys turning in a lock and the front door opening has them both break off.

Jisung turns to look at Hyunjin in panic. “Oh my fuck, you need to leave. Shit, shit, get up, that’s my mum, you need to get out – “

“What?” Hyunjin says, confused but letting himself be dragged to his feet all the same. “Your mum’s cool with people coming over, why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers harshly. “Maybe it’s because you’re my boyfriend and I currently look _like this!”_

He gestures wildly at the fact that he’s still dressed in nothing but a flimsy towel while the guy he’s supposedly meant to be attracted to has just snuck into his bedroom when he’s meant to be several miles away in fucking _Seoul._ Hyunjin startles, as if he’s only just realised the same and rushes towards the window without another word.

Before he can even get one leg over the ledge, Jisung’s mum’s voice calls out from the stairwell, only a few footsteps away. The bedroom door swings open just as Hyunjin dives into the wardrobe and all but slams it shut.

Jisung whips his head around to beam broadly at his mum, hoping it’s not as strained as it feels. “Morning!” he all but yells. “Great to see you, eomma, it’s been a while!”

She pauses on the threshold, eyebrow cocked dubiously.

“Sure,” she says after a moment. She looks around the room slowly as if it will reveal the reason behind her son’s odd behaviour. Jisung prays that Hyunjin closed the wardrobe door properly. “Have you ate anything yet? I was thinking about making pancakes together if you’re up for it?”

“No, I haven’t ate yet.” His stomach takes this second to growl as if to confirm the statement. “Just got out of the shower like five minutes ago.”

“Well, how about I hop in the shower for a couple of minutes myself and then we start our pancake-making in about fifteen minutes? That sound good to you?”

“Sounds great!”

Jisung throws in a laugh to emphasise his totally casual, not-at-all suspicious mood. He cuts it short a beat later when it verges on maniacal. Thankfully, his mother doesn’t seem to think it’s too weird because she simply smiles, all pearl teeth and a scrunched up nose.

Then she says, “Good. You can tell Hyunjin that he’s free to join us once he decides to get out of that wardrobe.”

It is not an exaggeration when he says his heart all but falls out of his asshole.

The painfully wide smile that’s stretched across Jisung’s cheeks freezes and then falls. He blinks at her once, then twice. His mum looks right back at him, dead in the eyes, her smile turning smug. After a handful of seconds that seem to span an entire lifetime, the wardrobe door creaks open and Hyunjin crawls out, long legs first, his cheeks glowing as fierce as two rubies. He comes to a stop next to Jisung, head slightly bowed.

“Good morning Auntie Jieun,” he mutters.

Jisung’s mum grins, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded across her chest. “Morning Hyunjinnie. Fancy seeing you here.”

He laughs awkwardly, avoiding her eyes. “Ha ha, yeah… I got back from Seoul this morning. Uh, just thought I’d drop in on Jisung before I went home.”

“Avoiding your mother, are you?” she says knowingly. “I’m guessing it has something to do with the five missed calls I have from her.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, not that I’m not happy to see you, kid, especially given the new… development between you and my son, but…” She looks pointedly at the towel around Jisung’s waist, the only thing preventing everyone in the room from seeing what his parents have given him. “This new _development_ is also why we have to have a not so fun conversation before we can do anything else.”

Already sensing where this is going, Jisung looks at her in alarm. “Eomma, please don’t.”

“I’m sorry to say it, but I have to.”

“No, you don’t, I promise – “

“Believe me, baby,” she cuts across him loudly. “This isn’t a conversation I exactly looked forward to having with you either. But as a nurse – as someone who works in the health sector and is also your mother – it’s important to me to make sure that the two of you know what you’re doing here. Now I might be an old person, someone who isn’t cool or hip, a real fuddy duddy or whatever the kids nowadays say…

"But I’m still not naïve enough to think that two nineteen year old boys in a romantic relationship who – as far as I’m aware anyways – both experience sexual attraction are not interested in sex or partaking in sexual activities – “

“Eomma!” Jisung yells, cheeks a violent red.

Beside him, Hyunjin chokes on his breath. He hastens to splutter, “Auntie, I swear to you, it’s really not like that – “

“I know that you two are embarrassed to be talking about this with me, but it is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of – “

“ _Eomma!”_

“Sex is a part of many romantic relationships – though not all, it must be said. And it is important to me and should be important to you that it is done properly, safely and with complete consent every single time regardless of your preferences – “

“Eomma, I’m actually going to scream, you need to stop talking about this. Like right now, I swear to God – “

“ – and though pregnancy is of course not a possibility with you two, that does not mean you are immune to the other risks that come with sexual activity and intercourse – “

“ _EOMONI!”_

By the time Sunday night dawns, Jisung honestly feels like he’s lived through several lifetimes in the span of this one day alone. Gone were his plans to hang out with Jeongin, pig out over some badly rated Netflix movie and sweettalk his way into free dessert at the Seo family restaurant. Away went his fun, stress-free weekend.

Instead, the day was replaced with preparations for a dinner opposite the road at the Hwangs where Hyunjin’s mother ends up staring Jisung down across the table as if she isn’t the same woman who spoiled Jisung with raspberry-flavoured lollipops when he was seven years old. He can honestly say he has never felt fear like that before in his entire life.

What makes it worse is his own mother’s apparent amusement with the entire situation. She rarely joins in on Hyunjin’s dad’s efforts to soften his wife’s interrogation – because that’s the only thing it could be called really, a full-blown NIS investigation on what makes Jisung tick as a person – and just laughs at their kids’ embarrassment. But she’s still sweet with Hyunjin at the very least and agrees to let him spend the night at theirs when Hyunjin’s father encourages him to take a break from their house.

“A break?” Auntie Eunju scoffs, putting a second helping of homemade bingsu in front of Jisung the moment he finishes the first. “He spent eighteen years of his life here and turned out just fine, didn’t he? What would he need a break for? He gets enough of it at university.”

“I’m sure he does, honey,” her husband says graciously, but the wink he shoots the boys over her shoulder is mischievous. “Still, I’m sure the two of them want some time away from us old pensioners.”

“I’m barely a day older than forty, you rascal!”

She swipes at him with a dish towel and the kitchen brightens with laughter.

Later when Hyunjin and Jisung are in his bedroom getting ready for bed, things are much quieter. There’s a comfort in the silence, something to soothe them after the long and embarrassing day they’ve had. Between Jisung having to stammer his way through his plans after graduation and his mother’s embarrassingly long and clinical spiel about safe sex that left the two of them unable to meet each other’s eyes, it’s no wonder they’re mentally exhausted. They crawl into Jisung’s bed quietly, making sure to leave the door open a crack as per his mother’s request.

With the light off, Jisung can barely see Hyunjin’s face in front of him save the glint of his eyes. The rest of him is nothing but a shadowy suggestion. It should probably feel awkward to face each other when falling asleep, but they’ve done this a few times now so he’s gotten used to it. And in any case, he sleeps better on his left anyways.

“Sorry about tonight,” Hyunjin whispers after a moment. “I know my mum really put you through it.”

She did, but now that the dinner is over, Jisung is just glad he made it through to the other side. “It’s no big deal. She just wants the best for you, that’s all.”

“Still. You didn’t need to sit through all that, but you did. So I guess I just wanted to say thank you.”

Jisung acknowledges it with a hum.

Hyunjin looks at him for a few moments, his breath a gentle suggestion against Jisung’s cheeks before he whispers a goodnight and turns onto his other side. Every so often, he shuffles around a bit to make himself comfortable, little noises of discomfort in the back of his throat whenever the cold seeps under the covers. Winter is making itself known in the Han household tonight.

In the end, Jisung slides forward until he’s flush against Hyunjin’s back. Eyes closed, he can only feel the way Hyunjin freezes against him, barely breathing as Jisung hooks an arm over his waist and rests his head on Hyunjin’s pillow.

“Is this okay with you?” he mumbles.

The silence that follows feels several months long. So long that he starts to move back, assuming he’s overstepped his boundaries. Before he can move too far, Hyunjin’s hand jerks out to press Jisung’s palm down against his abdomen, keeping him in place.

“It’s fine,” he says quietly. “It’s warmer this way.”

“Mhm,” Jisung agrees sleepily. Already, the heat from Hyunjin’s body is drawing him out to a place removed from reality, somewhere full of dreams he won’t remember the next day. “Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

“Goodnight, Hannie.”

Their train leaves early on Monday morning at a time when they’re able to be seen off by Jisung’s mother. The three of them eat breakfast together in a subdued silence, watching splinters of daylight break through the clouds and enter through the kitchen window. Somewhere in their street, a pigeon coos. Jisung coos back and then snickers into his cereal when Hyunjin and his mum look at him, bewildered.

“I’m funny,” he tells them.

Hyunjin grimaces. “Sure you are.”

“You’re just not cool enough to understand my sense of humour.”

“Yeah, because it’s non-existent,” he retorts. He picks the stalk off a strawberry and places it in his mouth, the juice staining his lips and teeth red. Jisung studies them for a second before looking away. “I think you should invest in some comedy classes, it might do you some good.”

“I think you should kiss my ass.”

“Jisung,” his mother reprimands, not even bothering to look up from her coffee. The circles under her eyes seem especially dark today; one thing she has in common with her son is that they really aren’t made for mornings. “Be nice.”

“Yeah, Jisung. Be _nice._ ”

“It was just a suggestion,” he protests. “That’s all.”

Her eyes flutter shut. “The two of you, I swear to God… I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to ever stop bickering, even when in a relationship.” She lifts her head to send them a close-lipped smile. “Eh, who am I to judge? You’re clearly still sweet on each other if the way I found you cuddling this morning suggests anything.”

Jisung blushes. Waking up to his mother turning off their alarms for them is something he doesn’t want to recall for a long time. Especially because the smirk she sent him told him all he needed to know about whether she took photos of them for memory’s sake.

“Whatever.”

“We are,” Hyunjin agrees. He seems to be in much higher spirits than yesterday despite the early hour. He’s no longer turning new shades of red, that’s for sure. “Jisung especially. For example, if I asked him to wash my dishes for me, I know he would gladly do it.”

He nudges his now empty bowl towards Jisung with a winning smile. Jisung scowls and pushes it back.

“Wash it yourself, freeloader. You’ve got hands, don’t you?”

“ _Jisung_.”

“What? He does!”

“Hyunjin’s a guest in our home,” Jisung’s mother reminds him. “Be polite and wash his stuff.”

He groans and stands up, the legs of his chair screeching against the linoleum floor. “Fine,” he punches out before jabbing a finger at the smug git himself. “But you’re drying.”

“Fine by me. I just hate cleaning the dirty dishes in the first place.”

“Dickhead,” he mutters under his breath.

He scrapes the rest of his soggy cereal out of the bowl and into the food bin and takes over the kitchen sink, washing the dirty dishes already clogging it up. There’s a few mugs in there, brown rings of tea marked onto the chipped interior courtesy of his mother, as well as the plate she ate toast off this morning. Jisung scrubs at them all, singing quietly to himself. When Hyunjin comes to stand next to him, he passes over the crockery for him to wipe dry. Together, they quietly get the task done.

The last of the dishes is Hyunjin’s fruit bowl which Jisung hands over with a pointed look. “You’re welcome.”

Hyunjin grins in utter delight. “Thanks for taking care of me, Hannie,” he says coyly and then leans over to mockingly press a kiss to his cheek.

When Jisung shoves him back, it’s with a revolted laugh, his face scrunched up in disgust at Hyunjin’s aeygo. He chuckles, a pleased colour to the quirk of his mouth. It’s not until Hyunjin looks away to wipe the bowl dry and Jisung catches his mother’s expression – the gentle contentment there, the way she studies them with nothing but a soft smile – that he realises what Hyunjin just did.

His face flushes. The place where Hyunjin’s mouth bumped against his skin seems to burn.

But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask why Hyunjin did it, or if he even realised he kissed him in the first place.

Not when his mother rushes out of the house to get to the hospital on time, leaving the two of them alone to shake off the act and pack their bags. Not after they’ve bumped into Jeongin on his walk to school and escort him part of the way there, listening to his complaints about his homework. Not on the train journey back when they meet up with a sleepy Seungmin who’s visibly confused on why Hyunjin’s there.

Jisung keeps his lips shut when they go their separate ways at their accommodation and later still, when a few of them meet up to work in one of the study areas. And when Hyunjin links their hands together on the walk back, he pushes the memory of the kiss to the back of his mind.

At the end of the day, he’s only overreacting, right? It’s just a kiss on a cheek. Sure, they’ve literally never been that affectionate with each other in their entire lives, but like… He shares a _bed_ with the guy a couple of times a week nowadays. What the fuck’s one kiss on the cheek when Hyunjin was clearly joking when he did it anyways?

Determined not to work himself up over it, Jisung shoves all thoughts that concern the kiss out of his mind.

That is, until Wednesday rolls around. Their friends have all decided to meet up to grab food that evening, Jeongin included since he swears he’s going to go crazy if he doesn’t escape his Science work for just one night. This meet-up is especially important since three members of the gang were missing the previous Sunday so it’s been a while since they were all together. This time around, their place of choice is a pizza place not too far from the university.

(The plans for the night also include a session of karaoke and maybe a trip to a bar after Jeongin catches a train home – which he protests to vehemently, indignant that they’re going to have fun without him.)

“You should try this one,” Hyunjin says, groaning in delight around a mouthful of one of the pizzas they’ve ordered. He holds his slice out to Jisung, prompting him to taste. “It’s so good dude, trust me.”

Jisung pushes the onion ring in his mouth to one side and obediently takes a bite. As the spice bursts onto his tongue, he hums in approval and nods. Yeah, that’s some good pizza right there. Some good fucking pizza.

Hyunjin looks at him victoriously. “I _told_ you,” he says. “I told you it’s good!”

It’s absurd the way utter triumph colours his voice and his face, as if he created this recipe himself and delivered it to their table, that Jisung can’t help but laugh. It gets lost in the din of the pizza parlour, just one of the many voices of the students who are crammed around every table in this joint, but Hyunjin catches it all the same. He answers with a grin of his own, eyes bright and warm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jisung informs him.

Hyunjin shrugs, still smiling. “You like me that way.”

And then he leans over to press a soft kiss to the tip of Jisung’s nose.

Jisung’s breath catches in his throat. Lips parted, he can only look at Hyunjin retreat with wide eyes. The other boy quirks an eyebrow, a soft edge still curled around the corners of his mouth. The image of that first kiss from the early hours of Monday morning returns to Jisung: the playfulness in Hyunjin’s words, the tease of his touch when it landed on the apple of Jisung’s cheek and darted away just as suddenly. Back then, it was clearly just a joke.

This doesn’t feel like a joke.

“Eww,” Jeongin trills, cutting into his reverie. He balls up a stained napkin and throws it at them, breaking their stare. Hyunjin looks away to pick the napkin up and toss it back, hitting Jeongin’s forehead with surprising accuracy. “The rest of us are still at the table, you know that right? I don’t remember asking for a ticket to your gross little lovefest.”

“Leave them alone,” Changbin protests, coming to their defence.

Felix grimaces into his Sprite. “Maybe when they leave _me_ alone we can start doing that. Until then, this is a Hyunsung-free zone.”

“What the fuck,” Jisung says, tearing his eyes away from the boy beside him, “is a Hyunsung?”

“Your ship name obviously. All the great couples have one. Think Brangelina.”

“How about we don’t do that?” he suggests much to Felix’s dismay. “As far as I’m concerned, Hyunjin is just the lost puppy that follows me around.”

The remark earns him an elbow to the side. Jisung laughs, having expected nothing less, and hopes it sounds as easy-going as usual. Nope, no overthinking going on here. No overanalysing all of the reasons Hyunjin might’ve kissed the tip of his nose of all places. Hashtag good vibes only and all that jazz.

“Tell that to the blush on your face,” Jeongin scoffs.

And there goes that plan.

Jisung immediately blushes an even deeper red. He busies himself with helping himself to another slice of pizza, ignoring the crows of his friends as they all crowd around to catch a glimpse of his flushed cheeks. More importantly, he makes sure to avoid the curious eyes of Hyunjin and prays he won’t chase him up on it later because he doesn’t even know what he’d answer with.

“Can you guys stop?” he snaps after one particularly long hoot from Changbin. “It was just a peck on the nose, haven’t you ever seen a couple kiss before?”

Unfortunately, that turns out to be the wrong thing to say.

“Actually,” Chan says thoughtfully, the straw of his drink resting on his tongue. It has been all but mangled by his molars and now glistens with the grease from the pizzas he’s scoffed down. “Not from you two. I know we joke about it a lot, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you kiss. I don’t think _Felix_ has either.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

“I’m sure you have, bud. But the point is that Jisung and Hyunjin are pretty toned down as a couple. Which is pretty surprising given how clingy the two of you are as people.”

Once again, Jisung stops breathing – this time for a very different reason. For the first time since they began their charade, this is the closest their friends have come to doubting them or even suspecting something is suspicious. From the way Hyunjin shifts beside him and then creeps his hand over to link it with his, he’d say his partner in crime is fully aware of this too.

Jisung lets out a small, awkward laugh. “Uh, I’ve never really noticed, I guess.”

Chan nods with a pensive hum. Jisung highkey wishes he would just drop the topic already, but he recognises the look on the fourth year’s face and know that’s not going to happen any time soon. It’s the one where he’s concerned about something and wants to express his support, though recognises he needs to tread carefully here.

“You know you don’t need to hide your relationship from us, right? I mean, I’m not saying you’re expected to kick all the food off the table and snog right here in front of us – “

“Fucking hell hyung, that’s not – “

“ – but we’re only teasing when we tell you to get a room whenever you’re… you know, being cute and all that. I hope you don’t think we’re actually against it or anything.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jeongin mutters, only to be hit on the back of the head by Chan. He yelps, shooting the older a wounded frown and receives a pointed look in response. “I mean… feel free to be as loved up as you want. I love love. Yaaay.”

Hyunjin chuckles quietly. “Thanks for the support, Innie. But seriously, you guys don’t need to worry about us. We’re just not huge fans of PDA like that.”

The looks on their faces are disbelieving. To be fair, Jisung can’t even blame them. He knows that he can be obnoxious at the best of times with how loud he is with his affection – wrestling Jeongin into hugs, dropping himself into Minho’s lap and demanding to be cuddled with a juvenile pout – and Hyunjin is even worse. It’s a rare moment in time when Hyunjin _isn’t_ attached to someone else’s body. And though Jisung might’ve never been in a relationship before, Hyunjin _has_ and they’ve all seen how clingy he was back then.

The ex-boyfriend in question has stayed quiet throughout this entire thing. Even now, he is silent as Chan encourages Hyunjin and Jisung to act comfortably around them, but Jisung is uncomfortably aware of the weight of Seungmin’s eyes as he watches them.

“We’re fine,” Jisung says, a touch louder than he needs to with his nerves. He twists in his seat and presses a kiss to Hyunjin’s cheek. The skin beneath his lips pinkens. “See?”

Jeongin grimaces. “Unfortunately.” He flinches from Chan's threatening hand and hurriedly amends, “I mean yes! We love to see young love! Yaaay.”

And with that last unenthusiastic hooray, the topic is dropped.

Without discussing it much, Jisung and Hyunjin begin to kiss each other from that moment onwards. Not on the mouth or anything – they’re not there yet, Jesus Christ – but it becomes commonplace for them to just drop a kiss on the nearest bit of skin they can manage.

A cursory kiss _hello_ when they leave a lecture to find the other person ready and waiting for them on the other side of the door. A peck to the cheek in thanks when accepting a much appreciated coffee in the middle of an intense study session. A quick one after they’ve shared a laugh and are in good spirits.

Jisung relaxes in the loose embrace of Hyunjin’s arms during a movie night at Chan’s house, fiddling with the hand that dangles over his shoulder and presses a kiss to the pink ridges of Hyunjin’s knuckles. They part ways to separate classes and Hyunjin pulls him close, head tilted low to brush his mouth against Jisung’s forehead. Jisung collapses against the table in the middle of writing up his lecture notes and whines pitifully until someone pays attention, so Hyunjin blindly drops a kiss to his wrist and then pushes it off his required reading.

Despite their probing in the pizza parlour, their friends usually groan and tease them whenever this happens. Felix in particular is vocal about being forced into a front seat for the development of their relationship, though Changbin is much sweeter if obnoxiously so. On the other hand, Minho likes to pretend he never sees anything happen at all.

Kisses like that are easy to explain. They’ve gotten into the habit of expressing affection around their friends, so they do it without thinking anything of it. Maybe that’s why it sometimes creeps into their private time alone too.

Like when it’s late at night during one of their movie dates and they’ve decided to share a bed again. When they’re warm and sleepy and their breaths mingle in the space between their pillows; when Hyunjin’s cold hands and feet brush up against Jisung’s and he squeaks out in surprise, jerking away as Hyunjin answers with drowsy giggles. When their arms slide around each other because it’s a lot easier to be this close at night when the rules of the world are different and Hyunjin drops a kiss to the tip of Jisung’s nose.

“Goodnight, Hannie,” he breathes.

And Jisung could turn away, could ask why they’re doing this now when no one else is around to witness it. But the truth is, in those moments he doesn’t want to.

So he simply lets out a content hum and whispers a goodnight of his own. Maybe presses the phantom of a kiss someplace on Hyunjin’s cheek in reply. And when all of that has passed and is done, he closes his eyes and falls asleep tucked away in Hyunjin's arms.

This week their movie night falls on a Sunday which means Jisung is rudely awakened the next morning by the blare of Hyunjin’s alarm. It’s set down all the way across the room since it’s the only way Hyunjin will drag himself out of bed to turn it off. Unfortunately, that means that its trills hook around Jisung’s ankles and drag him out of his dream until he’s shoving Hyunjin off the bed to get it to shut up.

Hyunjin yelps as he hits the floor. “Ow, that _hurt_ , jackass!”

“Good. Now turn off your stupid alarm before I throw it out of the window.”

“I’m _going,_ I’m going.”

A handful of seconds later, the room is quiet again. With the alarm silenced, the lack of noise now seems deafening. Jisung lets the heaviness claim his eyelids again, dragging them shut, and revels in the relief. He hears the rustle of Hyunjin’s clothes as the other boy stumbles his way back to the bed and then _oof!_ The wind is knocked out of his lungs when Hyunjin collapses on top of him over the covers.

“’M tired,” he mumbles, burrowing his face into the crook of Jisung’s neck.

It’s early in the morning, far too early for Jisung to be thinking properly. Truth be told, his mind exists in a state of consciousness somewhere between complete awareness and the mistiness of dreams, a state exacerbated by the way he keeps his eyes firmly shut. He grunts in reply. Lifts a hand to idly run it through the messy strands of Hyunjin’s hair. Hyunjin sighs in contentment, his head rolling to the side.

“Feels good,” he says.

Jisung grunts again and lightly scratches at Hyunjin’s scalp with the blunt ends of his nails.

After a few minutes of this, Hyunjin disrupts their peace by pulling back. He answers Jisung’s complaining whine with, “I can’t stay. I have practice to get to.”

“Practice for what?” he grumbles, burrowing into the covers with a pout.

Bad enough that his sleep was disrupted by Hyunjin’s dumbass alarm, now he can’t even get some cuddles to make up for it. The world is Jisung-phobic and it shows.

“I have a recital in January. It’s going to be graded and I want to make sure my routine is perfect, so I’ve booked out a studio on mornings I don’t already have an early start.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“It is,” Hyunjin agrees. “But it has to be done. You wanna have breakfast with me or are you going to sleep in some more?”

The answer to that is obvious. Jisung doesn’t even think twice about it before rolling onto his side and pressing his cheek into the pillows, his decision made clear. Hyunjin lets out a small chuckle, deep and throaty with sleep, and adjusts the covers so they come up to just below Jisung’s chin. A thumb comes up to absentmindedly wipe the dried flakes of drool from the corner of Jisung’s mouth.

“Suit yourself,” he says and ducks his head to press a kiss to the mole on Jisung’s cheek. “Try not to miss your lecture.”

Jisung doesn’t reply, already more than halfway asleep.

When he wakes up hours later, it’s to the sound of his own alarm. Though much more familiar to him than Hyunjin’s, the ringtone is no less obnoxious so Jisung snoozes it with much more vigour than the action demands, all but throwing it as far away from him as he can. He rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling of Hyunjin’s room, wondering if his lectures are really worth the sacrifice of the warmth of a bed. His alarm continues to ring out across the room in regular intervals like clockwork as he ponders over his conundrum.

On the one hand, this bed is incredibly warm. On the other hand, he has exams right after winter break. Jisung grimaces. Maybe he _does_ have to go to class after all. It’ll do him no good to slack so late in the semester and he doesn’t fancy having to talk to his supervisor about why he’s missed yet another lecture.

By the time he’s made up his mind, he’s wasted so much time he barely has any left to get ready. Certainly not enough to run up to his own flat to wash his face, pick out clothes to wear and run over to his seminar without being marked as late. So Jisung really can’t do much else other than pick up the nearest clothes from the floor, brush his teeth at Hyunjin’s and sprint to class without his laptop to take notes on.

 _Great_.

Somehow, he manages to get through the rest of the day just fine without it, but by the time he drops into a stool at a campus café, he’s sure his hand will never uncurl back to its normal position.

“Long day?” Minho asks, the little badge with his name on it gleaming underneath the artificial lighting from where it’s pinned over his apron. “You look exhausted.”

Whimpering, Jisung holds out his trembling right hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever had any part of my body cramp this badly in my life. How did people do it in the olden times? Did they all have hands made out of fucking steel back in the day?”

Minho laughs, the sound lovely even if it’s at Jisung’s expense. He takes Jisung’s hand in his and starts to dig circles into his palm with his thumb, commiseration hidden in the amusement in his features. Happy to have the pain taken from him, Jisung can only sigh and collapse onto the counter, cheek smushed against the glossy wood. One eye is kept cracked open to idly watch his massage in action.

“Poor baby,” Minho teases. “You must’ve been working hard all day.”

“The hardest,” he agrees.

“Such effort deserves a free drink on the house, doesn’t it? Choose anything you want from the menu. Hyung’s treat.”

Jisung shoots back up to look at Minho eagerly. “Really? You mean that?”

He shrugs, affecting nonchalance even as his ears turn pink at the corners. “Why not? I’m entitled to one a shift and I’m not feeling a hot drink today. Might as well give it to you instead.”

“Lee Minho,” Jisung says reverently, “you are a god amongst men.”

“Tell me something new, Sungie.”

“A rhinoceros’ horn is made out of hair,” he obediently supplies.

Minho shakes his head with a cluck of his tongue. “Now that just sounds plain wrong.”

“But it’s a new fact, is it not?”

He shakes his head again, this time accompanied by a huff of laughter and turns his face away to hide a smile. Just then, a group of customers approach the counter to steal his attention for a few moments so with duty calling his name, he lets go of Jisung’s hand to tend to them.

For some reason, the loss of contact leaves Jisung horribly conscious of how large the new stream of students are. Lost in their own world, they talk between themselves with an ease of camaraderie, but for someone who is not in the conversation, Jisung is all too aware of everything said. His feet automatically reach out to knock against Minho’s, only to hit the wood panel of the counter below. Biting his lip, he tries to appear very small and unremarkable in his hoodie instead, his shoulders hunching in on themselves.

Seeking a distraction, he taps a rhythm on the countertop and hums a melody under his breath to go along with it.

“You okay?” Minho asks, startling him out of his thoughts. The customers are gone now, drifted over to elsewhere on the café floor. “Still want that drink?”

“Uh. Yeah. A chocolate mocha would be good.”

“Healthy,” he comments.

Jisung watches him get to work on his coffee, singing along softly to the radio. Minho doesn’t tend to sing much, at least never seriously anyways, but his voice has always been high and sweet. When they were younger, Jisung would do his best to persuade him into becoming a singer with Jisung as his songwriter, but Minho always brushed it off with a laugh. He was never into that aspect of music anyways.

“One chocolate mocha for Mr Han Jisung.”

He presents the drink with a dramatic flourish, his back bent into a bow on the other side of the counter. Jisung accepts it with a grin, affecting a poor imitation of a posh English accent to thank him. His hands come to wrap around the mug and soak in the heat of the ceramic. Nothing beats a nice hot drink to warm you up in the wintertime.

“What are your plans after this?” he asks Minho. “What time do you get off?”

“Closing time,” he says with a grimace before glancing at his watch. “So in three hours. Hooray for me.”

“That’s capitalism for you, baby.”

“Every man’s dream,” he says sarcastically. “What about you? Where are you off to next? Let me guess: your bed for a well-deserved nap.”

“Ugh, don’t tempt me. I _wish_ I was going for a nap. Nah, I’m off to the library for a study session with Hyunjin. We both have deadlines next week so we figure we might as well get it out of the way now so it doesn’t clash with exam prep.”

Minho hums, eyes dropping from Jisung’s to sweep over the rest of him.

“Fair enough. Nice hoodie by the way. It’s his, isn’t it?” Just as quickly as he changed the topic, he leans over to trace the logo on the left side of Jisung’s chest. The tip of his finger barely brushes against it. “I’ve never seen you with this brand on before.”

Jisung looks down in surprise. Well damn, it turns out it is. He grabbed the hoodie without pausing to look in the mirror, assuming it was his, but apparently not. This is what they get for both wearing black most of the time, he supposes.

“Oh, I didn’t even realise,” he says. “I overslept and just grabbed whatever was on the floor so I wouldn’t be late for class.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Not like that,” Jisung hisses, cheeks warming. Damn it, he really needs to watch the way he phrases things. It’s what led to their friends thinking Jisung was hooking up with Hyunjin in the first place. “I just couldn’t be bothered putting my clothes away properly when I took them off so I – ugh, not like _that_ either!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re _thinking_ it! I know you are, you gave me a look!”

“Alright Edward Cullen, I didn’t know you could read my mind.”

Minho says this all incredibly deadpan, but there’s no denying the grin that slowly spreads across his face. Unable to feel anything but resigned, Jisung just pinches his nose and sighs. This is shaping up to be the longest day ever.

When he strolls into the library a little while later – awful, dingy place that it is – it’s to a sight that has him faltering in his steps. Hyunjin and Seungmin sat together. With no one else at the table.

_Interacting._

He’s not close enough to catch the conversation yet, but even from this distance he can tell that it’s by all means a pleasant one; even as he studies them, Hyunjin and Seungmin fall into quiet snickers, shushing each other frantically when their voices get a little too loud for the setting. After they’ve stopped laughing, Hyunjin’s eyes still shine with life. He looks happy.

Something lurches in Jisung’s stomach. He can’t tell whether it’s pleasant or not.

He approaches cautiously, not wanting to shatter their moment, at a pace that warns them that he’s coming long before he arrives.

“You guys look happy,” he comments instead of a greeting. He pulls back the last free seat and slumps down on it with a heavy sigh. “Happier than me anyways. I just need this day to be over so I can sleep for the next ten hours at least. This is for you by the way.” He shoves a banana bread muffin at Hyunjin and then sends Seungmin an apologetic smile. “Sorry Seungminnie, I didn’t know you would be here or else I would’ve gotten one for you too.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not really hungry anyways,” he says, shrugging it off.

Jisung nods, busying himself with emptying his bag. He doesn’t know if he’s just imagining it, but the mood seems a lot more… awkward now that he’s here.

He’s probably imagining it.

Even still, he finds himself rambling on in the way he tends to do whenever the atmosphere is too tense for him to handle. This time he prattles on about how his hand aches from taking notes all day because he forgot to take his laptop to class today and didn’t have enough time to double back for it. And oh, did you know he might be able to take a Literature course next semester that Felix is also interested in if he switches around his free choice units? He’s strongly considering it, but he doesn’t know if he can do all of that reading in preparation.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin interrupts all of a sudden. “Breathe.”

He breaks off with a startled blink. “You what?”

“You were speaking so quickly I thought you were going to pass out,” he says with a little laugh. “We’re right here, we’re not going anywhere. You can take your time talking about your day.”

“Eh, not that much time,” Seungmin says, peering down at his notes from behind thin gold-framed glasses. Frowning, he swipes a pastel peach highlighter across a line and then scribbles a few words onto a sticky tab he then presses down beside it. He’s so organised and on top of his shit that Jisung can’t help but feel jealous for a second. “I still have another chapter to get through after this and I want to be in bed by eleven so I can’t get distracted for too long.”

“I’m not a distraction.”

“You’re the loudest thing this library has probably ever seen. Distraction is your middle name.”

Jisung doesn’t know if he’s hearing a pointedness to the dig that isn’t there, but he falls quiet all the same. Regardless of whether or not Seungmin is just joking – he’s probably joking, Jisung is probably just reading into things because he’s tired – he has a point. They’re in the library. Everyone here at this time is after some peace and quiet so they can get some studying done – him included.

He mutters an apology under his breath and then gets to work. Despite his hand’s best protests, he curls his fingers around the Mickey Mouse pen he’s been favouring recently and starts to diligently write out his notes for the first topic in World Music from memory. After each section, he flips through his textbook to fill in whatever he’s missed out in a different coloured pen, grimacing whenever there’s more pink than black.

After a solid hour of this, he decides it’s high time for a break and chucks his pen down. Yawning, he leans back in his seat, arms stretched out high above his head with his fingers interlocked. The muscles in his palms pull taut with a satisfying ache that rings through to his arms. He works out the kinks in his neck, each crack that filters through his music like a melody to his ears.

It is in the process of this that he inadvertently catches Hyunjin’s eyes. He offers a smile, just a little one that tugs up the corners of his lips, but Hyunjin’s face is unreadable. He leans forward, gesturing for Jisung to take out his earphones for a second.

“What’s up?” he asks, his earbud still held aloft beside the shell of his ear.

Hyunjin leans forward even further, his eyes somewhere on Jisung’s chest. “Is that my hoodie?”

“Oh right. Yeah it is. I grabbed it by accident when I was rushing to class, sorry about that. I’ll give it back after I’ve washed it.”

He hums, gaze still trained on the logo of the hoodie. Then it trails upwards past the column of his neck to meet Jisung’s eyes, something indecipherable flickering in the depths of the soft brown of his irises. Whatever it is, it’s intense. The longer Hyunjin looks at him, the warmer Jisung feels until his face is pink with the evidence of it. He shifts, wanting to tell him to stop but unable to find the words in his throat.

“Keep it,” Hyunjin finally suggests. “You look cute. For once.”

The heaviness of the moment disappears, flung away into all four corners of the world. A scowl twists Jisung’s mouth and he lands a soft punch on Hyunjin’s arm.

“I’m always cute, you rat.”

“Cutie Hannie,” he agrees, the nickname sugary sweet on his tongue. He pulls Jisung into a suffocating hug and pats at his head with a heavy hand, ignoring the way he squawks in protest. “ _So so cute_ , so so adorable! How do you do it, sweetheart? What is the secret to your ways?”

“Let go of me and you might live to find out, dickhead!”

“Aw, you’re even cuter when you threaten me so passionately, Hannie. So, so cute.”

“Let – _go!”_

“Make me,” he challenges.

“Oh, I’ll make you do something alright – “

“You two are aware you’re still in the library, right?” Seungmin cuts in. Jisung freezes under Hyunjin’s arm at the reprimand, eyes screwed shut as if that’ll save him from the wrath of Kim Seungmin’s. “I know there’s not many people around, but we can still get kicked out if you guys keep it up like this. Save it for when you’re alone please.”

Hyunjin releases Jisung like he’s been scalded. The two scoot away from each other, avoiding each other’s eyes. Jisung’s cheeks flush with a new wave of red. He tries to ignore it by busying himself with his notes again.

“Sorry Seungmin,” he hears Hyunjin say as he picks up his pink pen. “We didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s alright. Just… be more mindful of where you are please.”

“I will do, don’t worry! It won’t happen again, I promise.”

As Jisung pops his earphones back in, he wonders if there’s more to that statement than he knows of.

A little after eleven pm, Jisung finally finds himself walking back to his flat. Technically, it’s more of a trudge. He’s trudging, dragging his feet along the pavement with his shoulders hunched forward in exhaustion. His eyes are barely open so it’s no wonder that he stumbles over the curb and nearly buckles to the floor in the process. It’s only Hyunjin’s hand that keeps him upright.

Hyunjin jerks him to a stop a second later, ignoring Seungmin’s inquisitive look. The three of them have been walking in silence, too tired to make small talk after cramming their heads in with information.

“What?” Jisung asks, much crabbier than he intends to. He’s tired, okay? So sue him. “Why are we stopping?”

“How are you already half-asleep?” Hyunjin says. “You nearly knocked yourself out on the pavement since your eyes were closed while we were walking.”

“I’m _tired_ , alright? It’s been a long day, leave me alone.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes heavenward as if asking for the lord to grant him with patience and mercy. Then, with all the air of someone offering something invaluable, he shifts, tugging Jisung until he’s facing Hyunjin’s back. He crouches down.

“Get on my back, I’ll take you the rest of the way there.”

“I can still walk myself back, Hyunjin. I’m not completely useless.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffs. “Just get on my back, we’ll get to the accommodation much quicker.”

He needs not say any more. With that incentive in mind, Jisung throws his pride out of the window and stumbles forward to link his arms around Hyunjin’s neck, his legs coming to rest on either side of his hips. Hyunjin’s hands wrap around the base of his thighs, large and sturdy, and then with a small grunt, he stands up. Jisung only has enough time to squeak and scramble for a better hold before they set off again.

Seungmin shakes his head with an amused snort. “You two are really something else,” he mutters.

Hyunjin’s right; their pace _is_ much quicker this way. But it’s also rhythmic enough to lull Jisung into a state between slumber and consciousness. He only realises he’s back in his flat when Hyunjin is carefully lowering him into his bed. He grunts, blindly pulling Hyunjin in with him in search of the heat that he can offer.

“I need to go back to my place, Jisung,” he whispers, even as he shuffles closer. “I can’t spend the night.”

“Why not?” he whines. “This is comfortable.”

He grabs Hyunjin’s arm and wraps it around him. Sighing happily, he burrows closer to the other boy, sinking into his warmth. Hyunjin accepts him with ready arms – for all of his protests, even he can’t resist the lure of a nice warm bed, especially in as cold a night as this.

“I’m only staying for ten minutes,” he warns, even though they both know he’ll probably end up spending the night. It’s there in the way his feet slide in between Jisung’s, it escapes in the breath that stirs the strands of their hair. “After that, I’m gone.”

Jisung makes a noncommittal noise.

After a minute – or several perhaps, he can’t keep track of time in moments like this – he remembers the oddness of this evening and mutters, “Hey, Hwang Hyunjin. I didn’t know you were talking to Seungmin again. Last time I checked, you two couldn’t be in the same room without at least three other people there.”

The covers rustle as Hyunjin shifts behind him. “We’ve started being civil again recently. It’s all pretty new, literally just started at the end of last week. But it’s nice.”

“Looked a little more than civil to me.”

The picture of Hyunjin and Seungmin earlier in the library returns to his mind, sharp and as finely detailed as if he is seeing it in person at this moment. The two of them sitting across each other, mouths wide in their shared laughter, their bodies leaning in towards each other. Hyunjin’s half-moon eyes lit up like Seoul City. Seungmin turning a shy smile to his textbook, the shell of his ear coloured a blistering pink.

His stomach lurches again. Maybe he’s coming down with the winter bug that’s been making its rounds recently.

“I feel like it’s been so long since we could talk properly,” Hyunjin confesses quietly into the shadows of Jisung’s room. “It’s been more than half a year since we broke up, but even before then we were already… off. We just got so swept up in things like exams and trying to get into uni and my dancing that we never had time for each other, and it’s like once we got just a little bit too distant, our relationship was too strained to ever be okay again. Even when we tried to make an effort, we just… stopped working.

“I’d always thought we were the type of couple who never needed to really try to work, that we just fit together since being best friends had been so easy, but… Apparently not. And now the next thing you know, Seungmin and I barely speak at all. And even though I know now that breaking up was the best thing for us, even if I didn’t back then, it still hurt to lose him, you know?”

“I know,” Jisung whispers. There’s a lump in his throat and he doesn’t know why. He closes his eyes and forces it away. “You love him.”

“I think I always will,” he admits. “Which is why I’m glad we’re talking again. I want my best friend back. I miss having him around.”

Jisung hums, eyes still screwed shut. They’ve started to sting now and itch with fresh tears. What Hyunjin has been through must be getting to him; he can’t imagine ever experiencing the same thing with Minho or Felix. He thinks losing them would break him. Hell, even losing _this_ right here – Hyunjin, a friend who is somehow both old and new to him – would hurt.

Jisung’s heart feels as heavy as a rock. The lump in his throat swells in size.

He forces himself to speak, even if it’s hardly a hair louder than a breath. “You’ll get him back. I know you will. And in the meantime, you have me.”

Hyunjin’s arms tighten around his waist. He pushes forward until there’s no space left between them, until he’s fitted along the curve of Jisung’s spine and his words are hot on the back of his neck. He holds him like he never plans on letting go.

So much for ten minutes, huh.

“Yeah,” he says. “And you have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [slides you a tenner] take this and pretend like this isn't later than my self-imposed, unofficial one-month deadline that i never stick to
> 
> also can you tell that i am a sucker for the bed-sharing trope? because i am a Sucker for the bed-sharing trope. i love cuddling!! hope this chapter didn't disappoint you guys. let me know what your favourite part was! depending on how things pan out in the next write-up, i'm predicting this to end at six (looong) chapters. 
> 
> also can we just celebrate the fact that this is the first chapter that felix hasn't suffered at hyunsung's hands? my poor guy has finally gotten his break!
> 
> 04/10/20: minor edits made
> 
> [[twitter](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy)] | [[cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjasmine)] | [[jilix au](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy/status/1236466231902900224)]


	5. five.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which many things happen, some of which are accidents and some of which are not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not quite sexy times ahead but also not v pg-13. just a heads-up :)
> 
> also i name-drop idols like there's no tomorrow in this chapter. no particular reason, i just really wanted to. if i can't have my kpop crossovers/collabs irl, by god will it happen in this story.

**FIVE.**

When it happens, it’s an accident.

Jisung goes one way and Hyunjin does the same, and before they know it, their mouths collide. The touch is slight and barely there, but the two of them reel back like their lips burn. Eyes blown wide, they can only stare at each other. The moment stretches on for what feels like several days, long and drawn-out in the way they tend to be when nothing else occupies the mind aside from the passing of time. No one else seems to notice their frozen states, too busy scoffing down their food.

Perhaps a rewind is needed here.

Let’s go back to that morning when Jisung wakes up to half of his toes numb, shivering under his new weighted blanket (courtesy of Hyunjin’s mum who gave it as a Christmas present to keep Jisung warm during cold nights). The weather has been particularly vicious in Seoul ever since they returned from the first half of their winter holidays, as if goading them about the warm childhood homes they’ve sacrificed for the sake of studying for exams. Jisung’s flat, he has come to find, is shit at keeping out the cold, so he wakes up freezing his ass off more often than not.

The bedroom door slams open, revealing Felix in all of his groggy early morning glory. The leg of one of his joggers has ridden up, revealing a fluffy reindeer-themed sock, and his hair is all mussed with sleep.

“It’s fucking freezing,” he announces. “I’m heading back to Sydney, you coming with?”

Having declared his very dramatic plan to fly back to Australia, Felix chooses to stumble into the room and crawl into bed beside Jisung in the meantime. He welcomes the other boy readily, arms slinking around Felix’s waist and shoving his toes against his bare skin. Felix winces, skittering away, but there’s only so much space to escape to when sharing a small double bed.

“I hate winter,” Jisung mumbles against his neck. “I hate the cold. I hate the snow. I hate the fact that we’re back here for our stupid exams instead of at home where the central heating actually works. I hate everything and everyone.”

“Um, I better not be included in that ‘everyone’ you’re referring to.”

“Of course not,” he says, squeezing Felix even tighter. He all but drapes himself on top of him. “You’re my best friend and personal heater. How could I ever hate you?”

They cuddle for close to an hour, just soaking in the warmth of each other’s body. Truth be told, they cuddle for much longer than they probably should – as their alarms try to remind them, only to be silenced within seconds – but the outside world is so damn cold that Jisung can’t bring himself to regret it. Studying can wait. Exams can wait. Nothing else exists but the need to get blood flowing around his body again.

When eleven o’clock strikes, however, they both admit they can’t push it any longer. Much as they’d like to pretend that exams don’t exist, they’re unfortunately right around the corner and it’d be foolish of them to ignore their presence looming on the horizon.

So they roll out of bed. Reluctantly get ready for the day, grumbling about how cold it is and how early it is and how they both need warmer clothes in their wardrobes because these ones just aren’t cutting it. And then they head over to Chan’s because his housemate Yugyeom managed to charm his way into getting them unlimited heating on a plan so cheap they’re practically stealing from the company and Jisung isn’t stupid enough to not take advantage of it.

“Oh hi guys,” says another one of Chan’s housemates when he answers the door to them.

This one is an Art student called Jeongguk who Jisung vaguely recognises as someone he sometimes runs into in the recording studios. Apparently, the guy likes to sing too. He steps out of the way to let them into the house, shutting the door behind them.

“Your friends are all in the kitchen by the way. I made ramen for lunch so everyone's taking a break to eat. You guys can help yourself to some too if you want – just make sure to get the snow off your shoes first or else BamBam will probably murder you.”

Jisung nods, unable to do much more than grunt in acknowledgement and stomp his feet onto the welcome rug. He’s pretty sure his mouth has lost all feeling.

Felix fares a little better and manages a knowing smile. “Does that have anything to do with the video Chan sent us the other day of BamBam slipping on ice in the hallway and falling onto his ass?”

Jeongguk lets out a loud laugh. “It might do, yeah.”

The two of them fall into an easy conversation, somehow moving from BamBam’s embarrassing fall to something about a charity event their dance society has planned for after exams. Seeing no reason to hang around, Jisung leaves them to it and heads for the kitchen, following the scent of the ramen. He hasn’t ate since last night and his stomach is suddenly all too aware of it.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Chan says when he spots Jisung in the doorway.

He ignores the light tease, instead scanning the room to see who else it hosts. The kitchen is spilling over with students. Dotted in between their friends are Chan’s housemates, also lured in by the promise of good ramen; Jisung spots Yeonjun laughing quietly at a YouTube video with Changbin and Yugyeom squeezed onto the same seat as Chan as they compare the research they’ve gathered for their dissertations. Even Jeongin is here, having travelled up from home yesterday to spend the rest of his holidays studying here.

It takes him a while to find who he’s after, but eventually Jisung does. Quietly filling up a glass of water over by the sink is Hyunjin. Despite the animated conversation happening just two feet away from him – Minho and Jeongin are in the middle of a debate about whether ice cream in winter is nicer than hot chocolate in summer – he’s a solitary figure in the middle of the chaos. He seems to be content to just stand there and sip on his water.

Jisung stands in the doorway and studies him for a second. The slightly overgrown hair that curls at the nape of his neck, the pale December sun bouncing off the rings that decorate his fingers. Even when doing something so ordinary, there’s something that’s so remarkable about him.

Shaking himself out of it, Jisung drifts over in his direction, curling his mouth around a saccharine greeting. “Oh, there you are, Hyunjinnie.”

Hyunjin turns with the clumsiness of someone who was lost in his thoughts and has been unceremoniously hauled out of them. “Huh, you what?” He blinks so quickly his eyelashes flutter like black gossamer wings. Recognition then dawns on his face. “Oh, Hannie. Finally woke up today, did you?”

Jisung rolls his eyes, leaning on the counter beside him. Their arms touch, but he makes no move to do anything more than that just yet. “I’ve been awake. I just didn’t want to leave my bed. Seoul’s colder than the seventh circle of Hell, I swear to God.”

“I suppose you of all people would know.”

“Oh ha _ha_ , very funny. I bet you’re really proud of that unoriginal remark.”

“Just a little,” Hyunjin says with a grin that Jisung can’t help but return. “Are you eating? I had some ramen from Seungmin’s bowl earlier and it’s actually pretty good, you should try some.”

Jisung didn’t realise that they’ve become close enough to share food again. He chooses not to comment on this, not wanting to ruin Hyunjin’s spirits with a snarky comment – and something tells him that whatever he’d say would be one hell of a snarky comment.

“Only if _you_ feed me,” he replies, brushing off the weird thoughts with a coy smile. He bats his eyelashes and pokes his cheeks with a cute noise. When Hyunjin recoils with a grimace, he drops his hands and answers seriously, “Yeah, I came to grab a bite of it just now, it smells so good. I’ll join you to study afterwards. Where are you based? The living room?”

“Yeah, over by the fireplace. I’ve saved you a spot.”

“Ugh, my hero. How could I live without you?”

He pretends to swoon.

And then that’s when it happens.

After he’s done swooning and Hyunjin has succumbed to the biggest eye roll on this side of Asia, Jisung leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. Not for any particular reason, just because. But when he goes left on his side, Hyunjin does the same on _his_ side and their lips catch on each other’s, soft and dry and at an angle that isn’t romantic in the slightest. But it’s just enough to leave them reeling all the same.

Jisung jerks back, eyes as wide as saucers. “Uh…”

It’s not like he hasn’t kissed _anyone_ before. He has.

Actually, his first kiss was back when he was fourteen years old and a guy he talked to at a school dance tugged him into a shadowy corner of the sports hall to press a shy mouth to his. It was over in a flash, but he remembers smiling afterwards like he’d just won the lottery. Afterwards, they agreed that there was nothing romantic between them, but it was nice to feel wanted all the same.

Later when he was sixteen, he and Felix even kissed a few times after they watched _Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging_ and felt nothing but sheer horror at the possibility that one of them could kiss as horribly as what was onscreen. It was nothing but platonic, just two friends practicing how to kiss so they wouldn’t be disastrous at it when the right time came. They still laugh about it to this day. And after that, there were a few more kisses with other people too.

The point is Jisung has kissed people before. This is not a novel experience for him. Comparatively speaking, this one is even the tamest of them all. In fact, it’s barely even a kiss in the first place.

But it’s _just_ enough.

And Hyunjin still hasn’t said anything.

“I’m really hungry,” Jisung rushes out when it looks like he isn’t ever going to say anything. “I’m going to go and eat my ramen. I’ll catch you later.”

With that excuse blurted out, he runs away.

When they were sixteen years old, Hyunjin and Seungmin started dating. The story was cute enough that it was passed around their hometown several times. Best friends since their very first day in school, the two skirted around their feelings for each other for years until Hyunjin finally confessed through a playlist of romantic Day6 songs he curated for Seungmin. The day they broke the news to their friends, Jisung congratulated them with a hearty hug – at least for Seungmin although he did offer Hyunjin a smile that was 100% genuine – and then he went home and cried.

Not because he begrudged them for their happiness or because he wished he were dating one of the pair.

But because he knew he would never be either of them. Not Hyunjin who so bravely confessed to his best friend with a heartfelt albeit cheesy gesture, nor Seungmin who had the delight of having his feelings publicly returned. Hyunjin and Seungmin now lived in a space that would never be occupied by Jisung and Minho and the thought had his stomach turning. Although he was genuinely happy for the lucky couple, he couldn’t help but be sad too.

He remembers going to their local park with Felix later that evening. Slouching on the swing that sat a little lopsided, his hands curled around the rusty chains holding him up, and kicking the woodchips at his feet.

“Why couldn’t we be like them, Lixie?” he sighed. “Why couldn’t we have fallen for someone who would at least consider feeling the same?”

At the time, Felix was head over heels in puppy love for Chan so he knew exactly how Jisung felt. Chan who was cool and kind and popular and three years older than them, who was already halfway through his second year at university and would never entertain the thought of fancying a high schooler much less dating them. The same went for Minho too – now that he was at university, he was suddenly a thousand times more unattainable. It was never going to happen in the first place, but another nail in the coffin was still another nail.

“I don’t know,” Felix said, just as miserable. “I guess not everyone’s as lucky as Hyunjin and Seungmin.”

It turned out that not even Hyunjin and Seungmin were as lucky as Hyunjin and Seungmin.

They made it a little under two years before they split up. Two years of being sickeningly in love and absolutely besotted with each other, two years of being two halves of one whole.

And then things spiralled down from there. They went from being attached at the hip to refusing to be in the same room at the same time to finally coming to a tense civility at Chan’s behest. And now here they are several months later, starting to rebuild their friendship.

If Jisung is being truthful, he doesn’t know how he feels about that.

(“How did you know?” Jeongin, fifteen years old and curious about what made Hyunjin decide to finally make a move, once asked a little while after the news had broken. “That it wasn’t just a crush and you wanted to seriously be with him. Like even if asking him out could’ve ended badly with you rejected?”

Hyunjin shrugged, then tilted his head to place it on Seungmin’s shoulder. They shared a smile so sweet it should’ve been kept private. “With a friendship like ours, it was never going to be anything else.”)

By the time the day draws to an end, Jisung has more or less forgotten about their accidental kiss in the morning. His head hurts from all of the studying and his hand is cramped from scribbling answers to past papers. On the bright side, there’s now more black than red ink on the sheets once he’s finished marking them towards the end.

“I can’t wait to fall asleep,” he announces, yawning in the hallway as he waits for everyone who doesn’t live at Chan’s to put on their coats and shoes. “Felix, we’re crashing in your room tonight. If I have to wake up to my body frozen like Captain America again, I’m actually going to go feral.”

“If you want someone to fall asleep with, you can always ask me,” says Hyunjin, rising from where he was tying his shoelaces at the bottom of the stairs to stand next to him. He interlaces their gloved fingers together. “I like sleeping with you. You’re warm.”

It’s an oddly vulnerable statement, muttered quietly enough that Seungmin and Felix can barely catch it. Jisung’s hand tightens around his in tandem with a squeeze of his heart.

He pastes on a smile. “You still have dance practice in the mornings, remember? If it’s just us sharing a bed, I’ll still wake up freezing my balls off since you’ll already be gone by the time it’s dawn. But you’re welcome to share Lix’s bed with us if you want.”

“The more the merrier,” Felix exclaims in enthusiastic agreement.

Hyunjin just looks at Jisung with something like disappointment resting on top of his features. He shakes it away a moment later with a snort and declines the offer, leaving Jisung to wonder if he only imagined the odd look. Especially since Hyunjin changes his tone not one moment later for something more light-hearted.

“You should wrap up warmer if you can’t handle the cold well,” he chides with a playful tap under his chin.

Without pausing to ask, he zips up the rest of Jisung’s coat until the slider hits the plastic top at the end of the zipper's teeth and the collar of his coat is tucked right under his chin. Then he unwinds the thick winter scarf looped around his own neck and wraps it around Jisung’s, making sure to lift his hood over his head afterwards until all that is exposed to the cold is his face.

Oblivious to Jisung’s speechlessness, Hyunjin scans him from head to toe, his smile faint and satisfied. Then he leans forward to press a kiss to Jisung’s forehead, his hands curled around both of his shoulders. He pulls back just an inch – if that. His breath is warm against Jisung’s eyes, prompting them to flutter shut. A moment later, another kiss lands on the tip of Jisung’s nose.

“There. That’s better.”

Jisung manages to find his voice, opening his eyes to croak, “Uh. Okay?”

Another smile flits across Hyunjin’s face. Still maddeningly close to Jisung, he tugs on the edge of his scarf and suggests, “Keep the scarf. It suits you.”

“I – I mean – sure. If you’re okay with it.”

“I am.”

“Well then… I guess I’ll do that? Since you’re offering.”

“Make sure you do.”

"Right. Well - thank you then, I guess."

"You're welcome."

“Jesus Christ, you’re never going to leave at this rate, are you?” Jeongin interrupts.

Swearing at the outburst, Jisung jerks away from Hyunjin to find the high schooler on a step halfway up the staircase, quietly observing the pair. He’s already changed into his night clothes – woolly pants decorated with Winnie the Pooh’s visage and a faded _Star Wars_ hoodie Jisung is positive belongs to Chan – and his eyes are sleepy as he sits there, hugging his knees. Jisung’s not sure why he’s even up. This is a solid hour past Jeongin’s self-imposed bedtime. But it’s not his job to care.

“Shut up, Innie,” he blusters, ears red under the cover of his hood. “You don’t even live here!”

“Neither do you. So please take this sickening display back to your place before I vomit all over these stairs.”

“No vomiting in the hallway!” yells BamBam from the living room. “I swear to God if anyone vomits and I end up falling over because of it, I will kill you. I don’t care whose friend you are!”

“Jesus Christ BamBam, you can’t just threaten to kill a seventeen year old…”

“Fucking watch me, Guk. I don’t care how old he is.”

Jisung spares half a glance for the fourth years in the living room before he clears his throat and turns his back to Jeongin and his judging stare. He reaches for the handle of the door and pulls it open to let in the late December chill. Almost immediately, the cold bites at his exposed skin and he shivers, ducking his head to hide his face in Hyunjin’s scarf. It smells like him.

“Let’s get going,” he grumbles to the rest of them. “The sooner we leave, the sooner I’m back in my own bed.”

“You mean my bed,” Felix says cheerfully, looping his arm around Jisung’s, the one that isn’t still attached to Hyunjin. “September twins sleepover, here we come!”

“I was born in September too,” Seungmin reminds them as they set off.

“Damn, you’re right. Don’t worry Seungminnie, you can join our sleepover too. It’ll be fun and cosy.”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin muses. “Four people in a small double bed sounds like a tight fit.”

Jisung shoots him a questioning look. Hadn’t Hyunjin said he was going to sleep in his own room tonight mere minutes ago? No one else seems to remember this because Felix just yells _the more the merrier_ again and Seungmin counters that with examples of everything that could go wrong if all four of them sleep in the same bed together. The two of them dissolve into a debate that has Felix break away from Jisung to confront Seungmin with passion and vehemence.

Jisung continues to watch Hyunjin, puzzled on what’s encouraged him to change his mind. When Hyunjin meets his eyes, a shadow of something lurks there. Just far enough out of reach that Jisung can’t name it. His only answer is to squeeze Jisung’s palm and let their joined hands swing in between them.

News Year’s Eve comes and goes more or less how Jisung expects it to. Fair enough, there is no huge party at BamBam’s house since all of the final year students are too stressed out about their January exams (which is a shame since people still talk about the one he threw last year). But there is a gathering that’s a lot more lowkey, just a few beers and pizzas to ring in the new year, and Jisung is invited to it since his friends live in the same house.

He drops by for an hour a little after midnight once he’s showed his face at various pre-drinks and other small parties he’s dragged to. He’s already popped into Hyunjin’s flat where his flatmates Jeno and Donghyuck are throwing a celebration that doesn’t seem particularly legal and then had to show his face over at Jung Wooyoung’s house at Changbin’s insistence. Somewhere between Wooyoung’s and Chan’s place, he also found himself nursing a cup of jungle juice in Son Chaeyoung’s back garden, pretending like she doesn’t intimidate him anywhere near as much as she does. He’s not too sure he succeeded.

But eventually he makes it to Chan’s house, his mouth and mind fuzzy from the alcohol in his system. He’s only distantly aware of Hyunjin chattering his ear off about every stray thought that enters his mind – Hyunjin’s a happy drunk, who woulda thunk? – and he feels kinda spacey but in a good way which he didn’t expect seeing as how parties tend to stress him out.

Maybe it’s because Chan’s house is still _Chan’s house_ tonight and not BamBam’s; when he arrives, he doesn’t need to force himself to be the mood-maker and ramp up his energy to match the setting. He can just sip on a cold beer and soak in the good mood. Or curl up in the corner and watch _The Girl Who Leapt Through Time_ with whoever stuck it on in the first place.

Whatever it is, it means that when Jisung wakes up the next morning, it’s not with a killer hangover. He drank the least out of his friends which means that, aside from feeling extra thirsty, he’s fine. The same can’t be said for Hyunjin or Felix, but with the way those two were the previous night, he’s not surprised.

Despite this, Hyunjin still gets up to walk to the dance studio and practice for his recital. Headache and all.

“You’re disgusting,” Jisung tells him from where he’s half-buried under a whimpering Felix who seems to think laying on top of Jisung will hide him from the sun. The younger half of their group have crashed in Felix’s room for the night and aside from Hyunjin, he doesn’t see any of them getting up anytime soon. Not even Jeongin who is already awake and quietly scrolling through his Twitter timeline at the bottom of the bed, his earphones feeding music to his ears. “I don’t think you’re even human.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you think I’m out of this world?”

“Go back to Jupiter, you alien-looking prick.”

“No thanks,” Hyunjin says with a grin that suggests his coming retort is one he’s very proud of. “I think I’d prefer a trip to Uranus.”

Jisung lets out a loud, startled bark of laughter that has Felix whine in complaint. He pats his head clumsily and shares a grin with Hyunjin over it. He hates to admit it, but he has to give that one to him.

Hyunjin carefully steps over Seungmin’s slumbering body on the floor to give Jisung a farewell kiss. “I’ll see you later, Hannie,” he murmurs, lips still pressed against the curve of his cheek.

He lifts a hand to brush away the strands of Hyunjin’s hair that are tickling his nose and hums. “Make sure you’re not in the studio for too long, you rat. You don’t want to push yourself too hard in this state.”

“I’ll be fine.” He pulls back and adds casually, “By the way, your morning breath smells like shit.”

Naturally, Jisung responds by exhaling a huge breath right into his face.

After Hyunjin has reeled back, gagging and nearly tripping over Seungmin’s legs in the process, he leaves for the studio. When the door fastens shut behind him, Jeongin removes his earphones. He peers over at Jisung with his sharp eyes.

“That was cosy.”

There’s an odd inflection to his voice, one that reminds Jisung of the other night when Jeongin was crouched on the stairs, watching them. Just as lost as then, he can only shrug.

“I mean, I guess it was? I didn’t really think much of it.”

Jeongin tilts his head, still studying him. “You and Hyunjin-hyung must really like each other, huh.”

And that too is said strangely. Not as if Jeongin suspects something is up or as though he is genuinely curious. Jisung can’t even put his finger on it, truth be told; he just knows it makes him feel weird. Maybe he’s overthinking things. After all, Jeongin has teased them about being too sickening in front of him from the very start of their relationship. Or maybe Jisung just forgot that the closest friend Jeongin has is none other than Kim Seungmin.

There’s a thread of thought there that Jisung could follow. One he can tug on until it unravels something much larger than him, the big picture that lurks in the back of his mind spooled out in the open.

But he’s probably just overthinking things.

“Yeah,” he says softly, shutting his eyes to the thoughts that swim above his head. “I guess we do.”

University holidays are as long as hell and they feel like it. Their exams haven’t even arrived by the time they see Jeongin off, the younger grumbling all the way to the train station about how he has to suffer all alone at home while they at least have company in their misery. Minho points out how he knows for a fact that Jeongin has friends in school.

“Acquaintances,” he corrects with a frown. “Classmates. No one I’ll stay in touch with once I move out for uni.”

“Well, that’s not very social of you.”

“Fuck being social,” he declares for the entire train station to hear. He earns a swift glare from the nearby ticketer for it. “All my homies hate being social.”

It’s true. Well, at least for Jisung anyways.

They wait until Jeongin boards his train – Chan dramatically runs alongside it until the platform falls away like he’s pre-pubescent Ginny Weasley – and then head back to the house for more studying. It’s just Chan, Changbin, Jisung and Minho on the walk back, the others too caught up in their studying to have seen Jeongin off. Honestly, the only reason Jisung is with them is because Minho wheedled him into it. Otherwise, he would’ve stayed inside where he can actually feel his nose. At least, he comforts himself, he has Hyunjin’s scarf to keep him warm.

“How’s your assignment going by the way?” Minho asks, knocking shoulders with him.

A blustery wind whistles through the air and he shivers, shuffling closer. Jisung links their arms together and then shoves his hand as deep into his coat pocket as it’ll go.

“It’s going,” he says unenthusiastically. He sighs, thinking back to the program he’s left running on his laptop. Another one of the reasons he agreed to drop Jeongin off with them is because he figured he could use the break from his laptop before he ends up sitting there all day, staring blankly at the screen. “It’s just… I dunno, everything I keep coming up with just doesn’t fit right. I’m shit at arranging things.”

“You could always ask Chan for help,” he suggests. “He’s taken this class before, he knows what it’s like.”

Jisung knows he can ask Chan for help. He just doesn’t really want to. Not yet at least. Call it pride, call it embarrassment; he wants to be able to present him with something he knows won’t be ripped apart when Chan looks over it. It’s not that Chan’s overly mean or critical; he just knows Jisung would prefer to hear something is shit than have him sugarcoat his words in order to protect Jisung’s feelings. It’s a respect thing.

“I know that. But to do that, I need to come up with enough for him to listen to in the first place.”

Minho squeezes his arm. “It’ll be alright, Jisungie. You’re in a rut now because there’s pressure on you to create something. But your muse will come through for you soon. You’re not as shit as you think you are, trust me.”

He smiles. However inelegant the comfort may be, Minho has always been able to make him feel better.

“Thanks, hyung, That means a lot.”

Minho smirks, tossing his soft brown hair back in the very picture of arrogance. “Of course it does,” he says haughtily. “What else did you expect from _the_ Lee Minho?”

They make good time on their walk back to Chan’s house so that by the time they’re inside and stamping the snow off their boots, Jisung’s toes are only somewhat frozen (as opposed to ready to splinter off from frostbite). He shrugs out of his coat and makes a beeline for the living room where his laptop – and more importantly, a fireplace – awaits.

He finds Felix splayed on the floor beneath his seat. “I am a failure,” he announces. “I will never amount to anything.”

“That’s the spirit!” Minho says, coming up behind Jisung.

“You’re not a failure,” Jisung says, tapping his foot against Felix’s backside in comfort. “You’re just blocking my way.”

“At least I can do one thing successfully.”

Taking pity on him, Jisung crouches down to poke his cheek. “What’s brought this on then? Who do I need to beat up for you?”

“Me, that’s who. I’m the idiot who thought a joint honours in Dance and Literature was a smart move. I hate my Poetry course. I hate _hyangga_. I’m going to cry and die and reanimate myself for my recital performance and then die again.”

He’s not going to lie; the thought of being in Felix’s position makes Jisung want to cry and die himself. He thought _he_ was in a bad situation between the exams he’s studying for, the song he has to write for the end of next week and the one minute demo he has to produce for his composition class. But he’ll still take all of that over Felix’s exams and assignments.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can beat you up,” he says, “but I can offer you hot chocolate instead.”

“You don’t know how to make hot chocolate.”

“I can offer you Channie-hyung’s hot chocolate instead.”

Felix turns his face away from the cheap carpet to nod miserably. “That would be great, thank you.”

He calls Chan over to cajole him into making Felix hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. Luckily, it doesn’t take much convincing since no one can deny Lee Felix anything he wants, especially when he’s upset.

“You’re a good friend, Sungie,” Felix says. “I owe you one.”

Yeah, he owes him a new hoodie, it turns out. When Chan returns with the hot chocolate, he crouches down to hand it over at the same time Felix decides to sit up. His shoulder collides with the mug at an angle that sends half the beverage spilling onto Jisung. He jerks back with a shout, Felix screams, Chan panics and tries to tear the hoodie off Jisung without giving him a warning ahead of time. Jisung lets out an honest to god _squawk_ like he’s a damn parakeet, flailing backwards as he struggles to free himself from the hoodie and Chan’s attack.

By the time he resurfaces, he’s out of breath and Felix is close to tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he wails, throwing himself into Jisung’s lap. He just about manages to catch him in time and then promptly has the air squeezed out of his lungs as Felix cages him in a hug. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sungie, it was an accident! Oh God, I’m a failure _and_ an awful person. Why can I never do anything right? I’m the worst best friend to walk this earth!”

Once Jisung has his bearings, he gently pats Felix’s back a few times. “I think,” he breathes, “you’re a little stressed about exams.”

“Just a little,” he sniffs.

Chan kneels behind him to tame Jisung’s hair. “Are you okay, Jisungie? I kinda panicked just then, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want the hot chocolate to soak through and burn you.”

“I’m fine. I just need a new hoodie before I freeze to death.”

“Take mine!” Felix offers, ready to rip off the jumper he’s currently wearing. Jisung grabs his wrists before he can manage it.

“You can borrow mine,” Minho says from across the room. He returned to his textbooks earlier while they were waiting for Chan to make his hot chocolate and so has only observed the disaster from a distance. “Take that Supreme one you’re always trying to steal off me.”

“It’s been at least three months since I tried that, don’t try and come for me.”

Nevertheless, Jisung detangles himself from a forlorn Felix, gives him one last pat on the shoulder to show that he’s not mad, and heads upstairs for Minho’s room. It’s much quieter on this level of the house. He can hear the muffled melody of a piano from one of the other rooms – likely someone’s study playlist – but aside from that, not much moves. Nothing like the chaos he just escaped.

He hears the sound of the front door opening just as he enters Minho’s room and what sounds like Hyunjin’s dramatic yelps about the cold in the entrance downstairs. It fades away when he snaps the door shut behind him and enters the clean, orderly space that is Minho’s bedroom.

Even as a child, Minho was unusually tidy – nothing like Jisung who’s had times when the floor of his room couldn’t be seen underneath all the mess. It’s been years and he still isn’t used to it.

Not only is his room incredibly neat but Minho’s clothes are also sorted by colour and length. Honestly, it all looks a little psychotic to Jisung to have everything so uniform, but he supposes everyone has their little quirks. Still, he doesn’t know how Minho manages to keep everything so organised all the time. It just isn’t _natural._

It sure does make things easy to find, however. He’s just picked out the Supreme hoodie he’s always after when the bedroom door opens again.

It’s Hyunjin.

“I heard what happened downstairs,” he says breathlessly. He sounds like he sprinted up the stairs just to get here. He moves further into the room, scanning his torso. “You’re not hurt, are you? Did the hot chocolate burn you?”

“Nah, it didn’t get past my hoodie,” Jisung says, much blither. He tosses him a smirk and flutters his eyelashes. “Why, were you worried about me?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer this, instead swinging around his gym bag to fumble for something inside of it. “Here, I’ve got a spare hoodie you can wear. Don’t worry, it’s clean. I haven’t worn it yet.”

“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t need to look for anything. I’m borrowing one from Minho-hyung.”

Apparently, this is the wrong thing to say. Hyunjin draws his eyebrows together and his mouth pinches into a scowl.

“Minho-hyung isn’t your boyfriend,” he says. “I am.”

Jisung looks at him, confused. “I know that.”

“So wouldn’t it make more sense to wear my hoodie then?”

Jesus Christ, it’s just a hoodie. It’s not that big of a deal who it belongs to.

But with the way Hyunjin’s looking at him, it’s like it _is_ something more than what he thinks it is. Jisung doesn’t understand why and doesn’t plan to pretend he does. But he also doesn’t want to upset Hyunjin over something so small when it means nothing to Jisung whose clothes he wears. So he folds up Minho’s hoodie as best as he can and places it on top of the pile it came from. And then he accepts the one in Hyunjin’s outstretched hand and pulls it over his head.

It’s already oversized for a guy Hyunjin’s size so Jisung all but drowns in the thing, the hem reaching a few inches above his knees. He almost feels like a child in adult’s clothing – but the material is soft against his skin and he feels cosy and warm so he’s not complaining. It smells nice too. Like flowers and berries. Like Hyunjin.

He buries his nose into the fabric and takes a deep breath, just soaking the smell in. Then he realises what he’s doing and snaps his head up, ready to counter the tease he’s sure is coming his way with a rebuttal of his own – only to stop short at the look on Hyunjin’s face.

It’s the same look from the other night. When Hyunjin wrapped his scarf around Jisung’s neck, toyed with the tassels and told him to keep it for himself. It’s the same look he wears whenever he sees Jisung in his favourite hoodie and the one that enters his eye on nights when it’s just the two of them curled up in Hyunjin’s bed together, shivering away from the cold.

Realisation strikes Jisung.

“Oh my God,” he says incredulously. “You _like_ seeing me in your clothes.”

Hyunjin starts, meeting his eyes. His cheeks flush when he registers Jisung’s words. “What? I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean exactly what I said. You like seeing me in your clothes. It’s why you didn’t want me in Minho-hyung’s. Isn’t it?”

He could deny it. It’s not like it’s going to change anything if he does. Jisung will still know the truth and he’ll still be sure to use it to tease Hyunjin in the future. They both know this.

But Hyunjin is not someone who’s ever cowed in the face of a challenge which is why he straightens his back and keeps his eyes dead on Jisung’s as he replies indifferently, “Yeah, I do. What about it?”

“Aw, that’s really cute, Hyunjinnie,” he says, taking a measured step closer to him. With each word he speaks, he takes another until they’re toe to toe and he has to tilt his head back to look up at him. “No wonder you’re all but throwing half of your wardrobe at me every chance you get. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“You’re one to talk. I might like seeing you in my clothes, but you like being in them in the first place. Don’t even try to deny it, I know you do.”

Okay so maybe he does. Maybe Hyunjin’s clothes make him feel snug and small, like he has an extra layer of protection between himself and the rest of the world. But damn it, it’s not like he ever expected Hyunjin to _pick up_ on it. It’s cold and he’s wearing warm clothes. If those clothes happen to belong to Hyunjin… well, that’s just a coincidence, isn’t it? Or at least that’s the hill he’s going to die on.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hyunjin smiles mockingly, his arms sliding around Jisung’s waist to tug him closer. “I’m sure you don’t, Hannie.”

“I don’t,” he insists. He lifts his chin in defiance. “And in any case, this isn’t about me. Even if I did like wearing your clothes, that doesn’t mean anything. It just means your clothes are comfortable. But the fact that you _like_ seeing me in them means something.”

Hyunjin’s voice is low. “And what does it mean?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

He doesn’t tell Jisung. Actually, he doesn’t say anything at all. But his eyes are hooded as they stay steady on Jisung’s and his hands are still wrapped around Jisung’s waist, fingers splayed across his back, thumbs digging small circles into his body. He’s leaning in towards him, head tilted down; so close that every time Hyunjin exhales, his breath spills over Jisung’s face like mist. And the scent of him is so damn strong too. It’s not just in his hoodie, it’s all around them. Jisung breathes it in with every heartbeat and his head spins.

They’re not joking around anymore. Quite frankly, Jisung doesn’t know what they’re doing.

And then –

It happens again.

But this time, it’s not an accident.

He doesn’t know who moves first. Whether it’s Hyunjin who leans further forward or Jisung who pushes up on his toes, but _someone_ does. Maybe both of them do. Regardless of who it is, one second they’re staring at each other, their smiles from earlier now not even faint suggestions on their mouths, and the next, those mouths are pressed together.

It’s not an accident. There’s no way they can pass this off as one.

If this is an accident, Jisung’s hands shouldn’t be running through Hyunjin’s hair, still damp from his shower after practice, and pulling him closer. Hyunjin shouldn’t be wrapped around him like he wants to crush Jisung to his chest, practically bending him in half from how insistently he leans forward, from how determined he is to devour him. They shouldn’t be kissing this desperately, this fervently.

But they are.

Their mouths slide together, inelegant and messy, and Jisung knows there’s nothing even remotely romantic about this, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think about that, doesn’t think about anything at all. All he knows is that he wants more. He just wants _more_. He’s hungering for it, kissing Hyunjin so hard their lips are fit to bruise like candy red apples. His teeth pull apart the seam of Hyunjin’s mouth and Jisung sucks on his plump bottom lip. Hyunjin groans in response, a sound Jisung greedily swallows. When he finally frees his lip, he soothes it with a swipe of his tongue.

Grunting, Hyunjin’s hands move up to frame his face and tilts it into the position he wants. And then it’s his tongue that licks into Jisung’s mouth and Jisung who can’t stop making pretty noises in approval. He kisses Jisung like he wants the memory to be burned into his mind forever. Like he wants the shadow of his touch to be imprinted onto Jisung’s lips for as long as he lives.

Still wrapped up in each other, they stumble around without purpose until the back of Jisung’s legs hit the bed. The impact has them part for a moment as they careen backwards until they’re both sprawled on the mattress. Jisung laughs breathlessly, caught by surprise, and reaches for Hyunjin again.

“Come here,” he murmurs, eyes fixed to his mouth. He pulls him closer until the other boy is draped on top of his body and Jisung’s thighs encase him. “Don’t stop.”

He’s not thinking straight. Because if he was, he might realise what he’s actually doing, who he has pinning him down to the bed. He might stop to wonder how things have escalated so far so quickly and evaluate whether this is a smart move to make.

But he’s not thinking straight. His senses are clouded with the scent of Hyunjin and his body is simmering with the touch of Hyunjin and his mouth is coming undone beneath Hyunjin and he wants more. He just wants more. He pulls Hyunjin in as close as physics will let them, pulls his legs up to trap him between his knees, and kisses him like it’s the only thing he’s capable of.

They only part when they need to breathe and even then, Hyunjin’s mouth keeps busy. He litters kisses all over Jisung’s cheeks and travels along his jaw, quick and hot pecks dropped against Jisung’s skin. As he explores his neck, Jisung’s fingers thread through his hair and then tighten on a few strands when Hyunjin sets to work on sucking hickeys at the junction between his collarbone and the base of his throat. He bites gently into his skin and Jisung lets out his most embarrassing moan yet. The sound is high and breathy and his body instinctively bucks at _just_ the right angle –

And they both freeze.

Hyunjin pulls away from his neck with an audible sound. Neither of them move for a few moments, the stillness stretching on for what feels like half a lifetime in Jisung’s dazed state. And then Hyunjin experimentally presses his hips down. Jisung’s head spins. Another moan tumbles from his throat.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” he hisses, eyes fluttering shut. He tugs on his hair again. “That feels – that feels…” He can’t speak. He’s forgotten what words taste like. All his mouth knows is the other boy.

Hyunjin runs a hand along Jisung’s left thigh, coming to rest it under the junction of his knee. He lifts it until the leg is hooked over his hip and cocks an eyebrow. The gesture is more attractive than Jisung would usually admit it is, but by this point, he doesn’t care anymore.

“Good?” Hyunjin suggests. “It feels good, right?”

Jisung can only nod.

The shadowy look from earlier returns to his eyes, only this time it blazes with full force. The look he pins Jisung down with should be illegal.

“I make you feel good,” he says in a low voice. It’s not just another remark; it’s a statement. “Don’t I?”

Heat pools in the bottom of Jisung’s stomach. He feels warm all over, like he’ll burn to ashes if Hyunjin touches him – and fucking hell does he want to be set aflame. He moves his hand to cup Hyunjin’s face, a thumb stroking the sharp cut of his cheekbone, and manages a minute nod.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “You do.”

With that, he pulls Hyunjin back towards him and they fall together again, their mouths reuniting. Jisung throws his other leg up around Hyunjin’s waist and the two move against each other without sense or rhythm. His heart picks up its pace, slamming against his ribcage in a frenzy of movement, and Jisung’s breath catches in his throat. It’s consumed by Hyunjin a moment later and Jisung thinks the rest of him might be too until –

“I swear to God if you two have sex on my bed, I’ll kill you.”

Somehow, the statement pierces through the fog in Jisung’s mind. He pushes Hyunjin off with a strength he didn’t think he was capable of and shoots up in a panic, his body registering the interruption before his consciousness has caught up.

There in the doorway stands none other than Minho, his arms folded across his chest. His face is impassive, but the way the way he sweeps his eyes in between Hyunjin and Jisung is pointed enough to have them turn red like there’s no tomorrow.

“We weren’t going to – “

The protest dies in Jisung’s throat, ragged as it is. To be honest, he doesn’t know what he and Hyunjin were going to do. He just knows that he wanted more. Whatever that happens to be.

Clarity slowly returns to his mind. Now that Hyunjin isn’t the only thing he’s aware of, now that he remembers there’s a whole other world outside of this room and bed, it dawns on him just what he did. Just what _they_ did.

 _Shit_ , he thinks. _Shit, shit, shit._

“I don’t care what you were going to do,” Minho says, breaking through his thoughts once again. He offers them a smile, cheeky and conspiratorial like he’s letting them in on a joke. “As long as it’s not on my bed, I don’t care. Personally I’d recommend Chan’s. His mattress is the sturdiest in the house.”

Jisung finds his voice again. “How do you even know that?”

“I take a lot of naps in a lot of places. So sue me, who doesn’t?”

Minho straightens up from his slouch against the doorway and claps his hands.

“Not to be that nagging hyung or anything, but you two are aware you came over here to study right? Jisungie, you have that demo for your composition assignment to still make a breakthrough on. Hyunjin, you haven’t done anything but dance all day so lord knows what you have to get through today. Leave all this for now – “ He gestures vaguely to their dishevelled states on the bed. “ – and come downstairs. Study now, sexy times later.”

They don’t discuss it.

Jisung is starting to sense a pattern here. Something happens and neither Jisung nor Hyunjin want to be the one to broach the topic, so they just… don’t. Instead, they pretend like nothing of note happened, that nothing has changed between them when in truth, everything has. Or maybe it hasn’t. Jisung doesn’t know.

What he does know is that he can’t stop thinking about the slickness of Hyunjin’s mouth, of the feel of his hair against Jisung's jaw as he bit along Jisung's neck. His eyes are hooked to the evidence of the encounter whenever he changes clothes in front of the mirror, the love bites like violets in full bloom against his tan skin. The sight leaves him short for breath. The memory of how hot his body ran prickles on the back of his neck and his pulse jumps in his wrist.

For the most part, they don’t act any differently. They still rib each other like they’re getting paid for it and not one day passes where Jisung’s hand isn’t made familiar with Hyunjin’s, their fingers interlocked in every space between their digits.

But there are no more soft kisses dropped to whatever part of Jisung’s skin Hyunjin can reach easiest, no more sleepy pecks on his nose at night when they’re both in that strange limbo between wakefulness and slumber. In fact, they don’t share a bed at all in the days that follow the kiss.

The change has Jisung’s stomach in knots. He’s gotten used to their little gestures, has taken a small comfort in their regularity. He doesn’t know what to think about this fact, so he doesn’t think at all.

Instead, he throws himself into his work with a renewed vigour. Out come the textbooks, highlighters and revision cards. With every essay plan he creates for his History of Music unit, he swipes away the worries that flitter around his head like anxious sprites that won’t stop recounting everything that happened the other day. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

On the assignment side of things, he finally makes a breakthrough with his demo for his composition class when he decides to tailor it to fit the song he’s writing for Song-writing in the Studio. The brief they were given was that it has to centre around a question (“Think ‘ _Where Is The Love?’_ by the Black Eyed Peas,” their lecturer said and when someone asked who the Black Eyed Peas are, he took off his glasses and sagged like a thousand bricks balanced on his shoulders).

In the end, Jisung decides to make his song about self-doubt and the struggle with finding an identity that is true to oneself. _Who am I?_ he scribbles into his notebook before crossing it out. _I am who?_ Yeah, that flows better. He can work with that.

From there, the words and instrumental come to him easily. By the time he delivers his demo to Chan for feedback before he submits it, he doesn’t get half as much criticism as he expects.

“It’s good,” he says. “I like it. The electric guitar is a nice touch. You sure you don’t want any more percs? I think it could do with another layer after the beat drops.”

“No, I think it’ll take away from what’s already here. We don’t need to make it busier than it already is, you know?”

Chan grins like his suggestion hasn’t been shot down. “Good on you for sticking to your guns, Sungie. Always trust your vision over what anyone else says, alright? I know the lecturer for this course can be harsh, but don’t let it get to you if he is.”

“Don’t worry, hyung. I know my song’s good.”

He laughs and ruffles Jisung’s hair. “That’s the spirit.”

After a few last-minute tweaks, he sends both assignments off for marking and gives himself the rest of the night off as a little reward for himself. Unlike some of his other friends, he can afford the break. Being an undergrad for a degree like Music Composition means that some of the units aren’t assessed with any formal exams at all, so he has fewer to worry about.

That doesn’t mean he’s completely in the clear, however. The next morning, he wakes up and goes back to studying with the rest of them. He has to. Exam season’s a bit of a bitch like that.

On the sixth day after their kiss, Jisung realises he hasn’t seen or heard from Hyunjin since the evening before. During his break, he shoots him a text just to check in on him, but when he next checks his phone an hour later, there’s still no reply. He frowns.

“Hey, Lix,” he calls out. “Have you seen Hyunjin today?”

Felix scratches his scalp in thought. “Not since I went to the dance studio with him earlier, no. He mentioned something about wanting to stay back for a little longer, but that was… uh, three hours ago? I doubt he’s still there. Maybe he’s showering back at his flat?”

Jisung hums, returning his eyes to his phone. He stares at the screen as if he can will a text to appear. His notifications remain distressingly empty.

In the end, he texts his flatmate Jaemin about it. Jaemin might be a Development Studies student, but Jisung knows for a fact he hangs around the studios often since most of his friends are dance students. It’s nothing too probing, just a casual question on whether Jaemin has been down there today and happened to see Hyunjin if he has.

**> Na Jaemin **

_oh you mean your boyyyyyyfriend_

_yes i did see him_

_he’s a bit of an angry one isn’t he_

**< Me**

_what's that meant to mean lol_

**> Na Jaemin **

_nothing_

_just that he was really cagey about us wanting to be in the same studio as him even though he had the entire place to himself and none of the other rooms were free_

_like i get that he booked it for the day but we would’ve been quiet :///_

_uh,,, sort of anyways, i make no promises abt hyuck_

_luckily this group of girls left early so we’ve managed to get our own studio_

**< Me**

_wait are you still there?_

_when did this conversation happen_

**> Na Jaemin **

_like half an hour ago bro_

_why, is he not answering your calls or something_

Jisung stands up without bothering to answer the text. If Hyunjin was still in the studio half an hour ago, that means he’s been practicing all day. Chances are he hasn’t ate anything since breakfast and is out there, pushing himself to the very limit for whatever reason. Call it gut instinct or whatever it may be, but Jisung has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He quickly packs his bag and leaves the house without much more than a shout of goodbye that’s directed to no one in particular.

He stops by a corner shop on the way to grab an egg and cress sandwich as well as an apple and oat smoothie he knows Hyunjin likes. Before he knows it, the performance arts building looms ahead of him, a decently-sized redbrick building just off the main street that is warm enough to heat up Jisung’s cheeks when he enters it.

He finds Hyunjin fairly quickly.

Hunched over and curled into himself, nothing but his midnight locks reflected in the wall-length mirrors opposite them, he doesn’t notice Jisung’s presence when he slips into the studio. Jisung watches him stagger to the ground, his body moving in sharp and precise movements before he twists in the blink of an eye and pulls himself upright again. His hand stretches out before him like a statue of Icarus reaching for the sun –

And then his eyes flicker over to Jisung in the mirror and he whirls around. This movement is not so controlled.

Jisung sees what Jaemin meant earlier when he called Hyunjin “an angry one”. The expression on Hyunjin’s face is dark like thunder, his eyes as sharp as a vulture’s. He crackles with an energy that can only be described as off-putting and it’s clear from the set of his shoulders that it’s exactly what he’s aiming for.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he spits. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

The venom in his words stings just as it’s meant to. Jisung doesn’t flinch, but he can’t help but feel wounded inside and thinks back to the last time they saw each other. Hyunjin seemed perfectly fine then. He even smiled at Jisung when they parted ways albeit in a manner that could best be described as perfunctory in his exhaustion.

“You’ve been dancing all day,” he replies. “Probably haven’t ate while you were at it so I figured I should bring you some food.”

“Well, you figured wrong,” Hyunjin says, already turning away. “I don’t want your food. I told you I’m busy.”

“If you don’t eat, you’re only going to do yourself more harm than good – “

“I don’t care.”

Jisung can feel his temper rising at Hyunjin’s interjection. He casts a glare at the other boy’s back. When he meets his eyes in the mirror, he knows Hyunjin has seen it. But he doesn’t seem to be put off by it and simply maintains their eye contact as he tells Jisung he can leave. His voice is purposefully disinterested, but the set of his shoulders is too stiff to properly pull it off.

“I didn’t come all the way here for you to kick me out,” Jisung says, trying to stay calm. “Look, a sandwich break won’t kill you. I even bought that nasty smoothie of yours that you like, the one I swear I’d rather die before I try. Just a five minute break, Hyunjin, that’s all I’m asking of you.”

“I don’t _need_ a break alright!” Hyunjin shouts, whirling back around. He glares at Jisung hotly from across the room, two bright spots of red in his cheeks in his rage. His mouth is set in an ugly scowl on his pretty face. “I need you to leave! I said I don’t want your stupid, shitty food and I don’t need your stupid, shitty concern either. Just fuck off and leave me alone, Han. Is that so fucking hard for you to understand?”

“Don’t speak like that to me,” Jisung says it sharply enough to show he means business but forces his voice to stay level. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.”

And the thing is he does know.

This isn’t the Hyunjin he’s gotten to know over the past few months, the one who watches Studio Ghibli movies with him on their dates and easily returns his teases with playful remarks. This is the one he butted heads with as teenagers, the kid who phrased his words _just carefully enough_ to rile Jisung up, to have him fly into a rage he could counter with fire of his own. He wants a fight. Jisung doesn’t know why, but he does.

Hyunjin seems to realise he’s caught onto this because his breath starts to quicken, his chest heaving in an echo of the pace of adrenaline in his veins, and he starts to shout senselessly, “Just _go,_ Jisung! I told you to leave and I meant it! I didn’t book this studio out just to stand here and waste my time talking to you – “

“You’ve been here all day, Hyunjin. Don’t be stupid and overexert yourself, it won’t do you any good – “

“How the fuck would you know what it would do? You’re not a dancer, you don’t know jack shit.”

“I know that dancing for hours on end without a break is stupid as fuck,” he snaps. “You’re not going to dance any better if you tire your body out. Felix is going to perform in the same recital as you and he hasn’t holed himself up in here anywhere _near_ as much as you have this past week – “

“Shut up!” Hyunjin yells. “Just shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up.”

“Don’t say stupid shit then!” His face twists with something awful and his breath escapes him in stutters. When he speaks, the words catch in his throat, “I told you to _leave_ , Hannie. Just leave me alone.”

Jisung doesn’t leave. He doesn’t move any closer either. He just stands there and looks at Hyunjin, meets his glassy glare with an expression that is wiped free of any emotion he might feel.

It would be so easy to leave, he thinks. Even easier to feed the fire in his fingertips, to give Hyunjin what he wants and strike the match that would see the studio burn in the ensuing fight. But he keeps his mouth clamped shut and just looks at him.

The snarl on Hyunjin’s lips falters under Jisung’s gaze and then his face crumples. He hides his face in his hands, but Jisung has already seen it change. Has seen the first tears fall.

Hyunjin cries into his hands like a child. Anger splintering away, Jisung’s feet carry him forward before he can think twice about it and he folds Hyunjin into his embrace. Hyunjin throws his arms around his neck and blindly pushes forward into him, his tears wetting Jisung’s shoulder. He’s shaking so much he can hardly stand, so Jisung doesn’t force him to. He guides the other boy down until they’re both on the floor.

Still crying earnestly, Hyunjin moves until he’s curled up on Jisung’s lap. He’s always behaved as though his body is much smaller than it is – tucking himself into the small gap between someone’s leg and the arm of a sofa, folding onto Jisung’s lap like a large dog that still believes it is a puppy – and today he feels like it.

Jisung tries to comfort him as best as he can, but he’s afraid he’s not very good at it. He’s never comforted Hyunjin before, at least not like this, and he doesn’t know whether the usual approach he takes applies here. But he pats comfort onto Hyunjin’s back anyway and rubs the nape of his neck as Hyunjin’s tears wash his skin and whispers soft platitudes into his ear.

When he finally has a hold of himself, Hyunjin pulls away slightly to wipe his cheeks clean. He sniffs and offers Jisung a tremulous smile. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he says. “I… I went off at you like a real bastard and then practically threw myself at you when I started crying. You could’ve told me to fuck off and you would’ve been right to, to be honest. I was really mean.”

“Yes you were,” Jisung agrees. “But that doesn’t mean I was just going to walk away when I saw you crying.”

Hyunjin sniffles again. He looks down, cheeks pink with shame. His hands toy with the tassels of Jisung’s scarf, the one he gave him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I just – I really don’t think I’m going to do well in this recital. I keep messing up my routine and I saw some of the other students' – fucking Donghyuck dances like he’s the center of an idol group and don’t even get me started on Lee Chaeyeon – and I’m just…

“I always thought that I was a good dancer. You know back in high school, everyone would compliment me on my dancing and I’d get praises from my instructor in my academy and I thought I could really go far with this. But now I’m in uni and everyone else here was also good enough to get in. They’re also the best dancers from their hometown and it’s like it doesn’t matter how hard I work, I still won’t be good enough. So I keep practicing, but I feel like I’m going nowhere with this and I – ”

He breaks off, fresh tears springing to his eyes. He presses his palms against them, as if forcing the tears back in, and then lowers his hands to smile miserably.

“Felix says I’m overreacting and I’m sure you will too, but I can’t help it. I know it’s true.”

Jisung chews his lip thoughtfully. There’s a careful path to tread here and he doesn’t want to misstep. “I wouldn’t say you’re overreacting. I think you’re just trapped in your head a little.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I mean, it’s natural to be worried. This recital means a lot to you, right?”

Hyunjin nods. “It’s going to be graded. And it’s a public performance, anyone can come and watch it. They even sell tickets for the show.”

“So you feel like you have a lot riding on it, yeah? And because you _are_ surrounded by talented dancers, you’ve kinda just – gone into your head a little, I guess. Focused so much on the competition so to speak that you’ve forgotten how to recognise how well you dance too.”

“But that’s the thing, I _don’t_ – “

“You do,” Jisung interrupts calmly. “I saw a bit of your dancing earlier when I walked in. Your routine is really good. I might not know much about dancing, but I know how you made me feel and it was… It was good. I don’t know, if I had to describe it, I’d say it was kind of haunting and sad to watch. Not in a bad way or anything, don’t get me wrong – “

“No, I get you,” Hyunjin says, looking at Jisung like he’s seeing him with fresh eyes. His lips are parted slightly. “It’s meant to be haunting. It’s… I wanted it to look like I was fighting with myself almost – you know, like fighting with my demons if that makes sense? And most of the time, I’m losing.”

Jisung nods slowly. He didn’t get to see much of the choreography before Hyunjin started in on him, but the few seconds he did see suggested that already. He’s impressed.

“It’s beautiful,” he says and he’s not just saying it to comfort him. He means every word of it. “What little I saw was captivating to watch.”

Hyunjin’s entire face turns pink. He drops his eyes to his hands, still playing with Jisung’s scarf, the very picture of shy. “Thank you,” he mutters. “That’s… I really appreciate it. That’s very kind of you.”

He’s not being kind. He’s just speaking the truth. But he understands what Hyunjin means by that, so he doesn’t press the point, and just sends him a warm smile. Hyunjin returns it, hesitant at first, but then it gets a little bigger until his eyes are squished into half-crescents and his teeth gleam like pearls beneath the artificial lighting. For a moment they just sit there, smiling stupidly wide at one another.

Then Hyunjin seems to remember something because his smile starts to fade and he drops his eyes again, this time in shame.

“Listen,” he says in a low voice. His words are so quiet that Jisung has to strain to catch them. “I really am sorry for how I spoke to you earlier. Nothing excuses it, but – well, I figure I should give you an explanation and – it’s just – I just – “ He cuts off to huff in frustration. “I’m not good with my words, I’m sorry. The thing is – and I know it’s not healthy, I know it’s something I need to work on and I really do want to try, but – “

“Hyunjin,” Jisung interrupts. He cuts off again, this time to blink soundlessly at Jisung. Jisung places his hand over one of Hyunjin’s and squeezes it. “Breathe, love. We have time.”

He shifts on his lap, cheeks darkening again. “Don’t call me that,” he mutters, but there’s no heart behind it. Jisung notes this with some interest, but chooses not to comment, filing away the information for later.

“Go on,” he prompts when Hyunjin forgets to continue with his apology. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, right. I was just saying that… When I’m stressed, I tend to express that through anger, I guess. I know it’s not nice of me or a healthy mindset, but it’s like arguing lets me just blow off steam, you know? I used to do it all the time with you back in high school. Sometimes with Seungmin too, but mostly you. Any time I was stressed, all I’d have to do is go and argue with you and it’d make me feel better. I’d even deliberately seek you out during exam season. Oh wow, that sounds so fucked up when I say it out loud.”

Jisung can’t help but laugh. “A little yeah,” he agrees.

To be honest, he’s not surprised. He kinda figured Hyunjin would do that back in high school. They already saw each other often back in those days, as two people who are part of the same group of friends are prone to do, but whenever assessments hit, it’s like Jisung never went a day without arguing with Hyunjin. Back then, Hyunjin didn’t even have to be the one to start it; Jisung would readily goad him into an altercation. They were both dicks.

“So let me guess,” he says. “You saw me in the back of the studio and figured that you could piss me off into arguing with you again. And then when I didn’t do it, you got so frustrated – “

“That I ended up crying instead? Pretty much, yeah.” The look of shame returns to him. “I’m really sorry, Hannie. It was a dick move.”

“It was. But I guess I can forgive you.”

Jisung smiles then, the curve of his mouth stretching from ear to ear. When Hyunjin replies in kind, it seems almost involuntary, like he can’t help but return a smile that’s so stupidly big and bright. It softens into something more private and he pulls Jisung into a tight hug, just holding him. He’s still sprawled on Jisung’s lap so it’s easy enough for him to wrap his legs around Jisung too.

“Thank you, Hannie,” he murmurs, the words falling directly into his ear. “You’re a good person. I’m really glad you came.”

Jisung’s arms rise until they’re looped around Hyunjin’s waist. He holds him close to his chest and wonders when the sprites in his head turned into butterflies.

They kiss again outside the performance arts building.

Snow falls from the sky when they step out into the night, Hyunjin’s stomach now settled by a sandwich and an oat smoothie he’s convinced Jisung to take just _one_ sip of. It’s gentle in its descent, transforming their campus into a postcard to send home to their parents. Jisung holds out his free hand to catch a snowflake and watches it settle on the cotton of his gloves.

His eyes are wondrous as he fawns over his new friend. “Wow,” he breathes. “Pretty.”

The snowflake melts away a heartbeat later and he turns to Hyunjin with a pout, ready to mourn his loss, only to find Hyunjin already watching him. Honey drips from his gaze. His smile is soft but sure, the expression of someone who is content to do nothing more than watch as someone they care for is happy.

“What?” Jisung asks, arching an eyebrow.

Hyunjin studies him, that shadowy half-smile still there. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. His voice is hushed against the night, but it seems so loud to Jisung’s ears. “I’d really like to.”

His heart sings out. The butterflies spill into his chest, drawn by its call.

“Yeah. You can.”

The first time they kissed, the touch was barely there. It was chaste and dry, the slip of two mouths who never intended to meet. An accident.

The second time they kissed, it was thoughtless and impulsive. Hyunjin kissed him like he wanted to ravage him and Jisung kissed back like he could never get enough because all he wanted was more, all he could think about was more. It wasn’t an accident, but Jisung doesn’t really know what it was instead.

But this time… this time he knows.

This time, it is him and Hyunjin in the middle of Seoul. It is the hands that frame Jisung’s face, the thumb stroking his cheek. It is the slant of Hyunjin’s lips on his, the tip of his nose resting next to the bridge of his, the blackberry scent of his soap. It is snowflakes on their shoulders and the endless expanse of the night sky above them and the way their faces lose all feeling as the cold settles into their skin. It’s his arms around Hyunjin, how he kisses his smile into an equally content Hyunjin until their teeth clash and they break away with matching laughs.

Hyunjin asked him for something and he gave it.

It’s not an accident when he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so,,, that happened. that was a thing. let me know your thoughts perhaps?
> 
> i actually wrote this chapter way quicker than i thought i would, but once those boys started snogging, they kind of went for it lmao. also i hope you got a little insight into hyunjin in this chapter, at least in the scene in the dance studio, and how jisung is also helping him in this relationship and not just the other way around if that makes sense?
> 
> the bit of hyunjin's performance jisung sees is here at [00:33](https://youtu.be/bY_TqcsMyHM?t=31) until 00:43. also!! there is amazing art done for the snowball scene by zoru [here](https://twitter.com/skz_zoru/status/1290107813826453505), perhaps i'm sobbing.
> 
> also this is going to be around 7 chapters, maybe 8 if i end up writing like there's no tomorrow, but i'm predicting 7 for now! see you next time <3 (also it's my birthday! which is why i uploaded this so soon)
> 
> UPDATE (08/09/20): after the very serious allegations that have come out against woojin today, i am no longer comfortable with including him in my works. even if he is just a very minor character here, i've decided to edit him out. i hope you respect my decision bc quite frankly, i cannot endorse a person such as him. that's all.
> 
> 05/10/20: minor edits made
> 
> [[twitter](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy)] | [[cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjasmine)] | [[jilix au](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy/status/1236466231902900224)]


	6. six.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which a kettle is defiled and jisung discovers many things
> 
> (these two things are completely unrelated)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've said this in the notes for chapters one and five already, but here it goes again: given everything that's come out regarding woojin, i don't feel comfortable having him in my fics anymore. he was only ever a minor character since i was still mindful of the fact that he had chosen to leave so it was a quick job to edit him out. anyways i just wanted to let you know about that. i always believe the victims first since just coming forward with the accusation is an act of bravery in itself. if you have a problem with that... idk what to say bc he's not returning to this fic.

**SIX.**

Exams come and go in a blur. Considering how much goes effort goes into preparing for them, it really is anticlimactic as hell when they finally arrive. At least Jisung emerges on the other side of them feeling like he’s done decently which is all he really wanted to be honest. Plus, Felix only cries for five minutes after his Poetry exam which is far less than any of them expected and a sign that they’ve done well. Apparently studying like it was the only thing they were created for paid off.

Rounding off the month of January are the Dance students’ recitals. Jisung buys tickets to both the first year and third year recitals, even as his wallet winces in pain, because he promised to show his face on both nights to support all of his friends. He turns up to the first recital with two bouquets of flowers: a small bundle of yellow roses for Felix and a larger bouquet that dwarfs the other for Hyunjin. He’s not a flower expert, so he’s not sure what all the flowers in it are, but he recognises pink roses, sunflowers and blue ivy at the very least. It’s an explosion of colour that has Changbin let out a low whistle and Minho pinch Jisung’s shoulder.

“If you don’t bring me flowers on my night,” he begins warningly.

Jisung rolls his eyes. “You’ll get your flowers, don’t worry. I’ll even be the one to pick them out of the ground outside for you.”

Minho pinches him again, only much harder this time, and Jisung screeches, jerking away from him. The third year grins, looking far too satisfied with himself. It’s official: he’s evil. Pure _evil._

“I don’t like you,” he says plaintively.

Minho laughs and pats the assaulted shoulder better. “That’s because you love me, Jisungie. You love me.”

For all of the worrying in the lead up to the recital, it goes off without a hitch. Jisung might not be an expert on dancing, but the performances are fun to watch either way and everyone onstage can out-dance him any day so he is more than impressed. The same can be said for the rest of the audience too who _ooh_ and _aah_ and applaud all of the first years enthusiastically at the end of their performances. He’s pleased to note that Felix gains one of the louder sets of cheers although that might be partly because their entire group gets up and all but howl his name. Chan even pumps his fist in the air and punches out grunts like he’s a frat boy.

But Jisung has to admit that his favourite performance of the night is Hyunjin’s.

He’s not even coming at it from a biased perspective. The entire hall is hushed when the opening hums of _when the party’s over_ creep out of the speakers and Hyunjin blinks into view under the focus of a spotlight. Not a soul murmurs, not a single person whispers – not even the rustling of clothes can be heard. Everyone sits, transfixed as Hyunjin throws himself into his routine. His body is a puppet that dances along to the whims of the music and he looks so immersed in his performance, so distant from the audience yet oozing with a presence that demands for all eyes to remain hooked on him.

Jisung watches him, hardly able to breathe. When the music peters out and the lights switch back on, Hyunjin stands in the centre of the stage and receives the loudest cheers of the night. Jisung stands up and applauds until his palms are sore and his cheeks ache from how wide the grin that splits them is.

After the recital draws to an end, they go over to where the dancers are being let out from backstage, still gushing over their friends’ performances. Minho seems particularly proud, gloating about Hyunjin and Felix like a proud dad, but maybe that’s because he’s been in their position before and knows how nerve-wracking it is.

“I hope those are for me,” says Felix, coming up to their group.

He points at the flowers in Jisung’s hands and he chuckles, handing over the yellow roses. “You did great, Lixie. Did you hear us cheering for you?”

“I think everyone on campus did,” he groans. The grin on him says he didn’t mind half as much as he’s pretending to.

The others pull him into conversation, congratulating him with a group hug. Jisung turns away in search of Hyunjin, only to find him emerging from backstage. He casts his eyes around the theatre until they land on Jisung, lighting up when they spot him. He smiles, scurrying over. Jisung finds he’s already smiling back.

“Hey,” he says when Hyunjin is within earshot. “You did amazing tonight. If your teacher doesn’t give you top marks, I’ll break their computer myself.”

Hyunjin laughs, his cheeks warming from the compliment. “Thanks. I have to admit, it went a lot better than I expected it to.”

“I told you things would work out,” Jisung says, moving closer to him. “You’re a great dancer, Hyunjin. Try not to forget it.” He remembers the bouquet in his hands and tacks on, “These are for you by the way.”

“Did you raid every flower shop in Seoul to make this?” Hyunjin jokes, but the smile he hides under the guise of smelling the flowers is pleased. He pulls away to reach for Jisung’s hand and squeezes it. “Thank you. They’re very pretty.”

“Just like me,” he jokes. “I’m not really sure what the flowers mean, but I did tell the florist that it’s for my dancer boyfriend so hopefully I haven’t accidentally told you I despise you or anything. That wouldn’t be a very good gift if I did.”

“No, it wouldn’t. You know what would be though?”

Jisung shakes his head in confusion, only to receive a wicked smile. Hyunjin leans in closer to him, dropping his voice to a low murmur.

“A kiss.”

His cheeks flush. He tries to blink it away, but he’s not very successful. “Right in the middle of everyone here?” he quips, glad to hear that his voice is much steadier than he feels. “How shameless of you, Hwang Hyunjin.”

He shrugs. “Tonight’s my big night. Don’t you want to congratulate me a little?”

“Shameless,” Jisung hisses, slapping a hand onto Hyunjin’s shoulder. His cheeks turn darker, even as he leans closer. “You’re _so_ _fucking_ shameless.”

Luckily for Hyunjin, so is he. Jisung presses forward until his lips meet Hyunjin’s, slightly parted to capture them between his own, and he falls into him with a small hum. His free hand rises to the nape of Hyunjin’s neck, looping the strands of his hair around his fingers. Hyunjin places his at the small of Jisung’s back, guiding him closer. The paper wrapping of the bouquet protests as the flowers are crushed in between them, but neither pay it any mind.

Before things can get heated, Jisung pulls away although he doesn’t draw too far back. His nose rests against Hyunjin’s and his eyes crack open to meet Hyunjin’s hooded look.

“Is that a good enough gift for you?” he murmurs.

Hyunjin presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m not sure, you might have to give me another one before I can decide.”

Before Jisung can follow through on that, Changbin slides up behind Hyunjin and throws his arms around the two of them, squeezing tight. “Alright lovebirds! Sorry to interrupt you, but I need to congratulate my little dongsaeng over here. Hyunjin-ah, your performance was so good, I’m so proud of you!”

“Ah – hyung, my _ribs_ – “

“Hyung!” Jisung bites out as he’s crushed to Hyunjin’s chest. “I can’t breathe!”

“Me neither,” Hyunjin gasps.

Changbin pays them no mind, continuing his spiel with full earnest. Jisung’s not sure why he thinks anyone can pay attention to his heartfelt speech when the oxygen is being squeezed out of their lungs, but that is apparently not a concern Changbin cares to take into consideration. Neither do the rest of their friends either because the group hug for Felix migrates over to them so Jisung finds himself in the centre of a knot of eight bloody people.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin splutters, trying to spit something off his tongue. “Your hair is _literally_ in my mouth.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t really change that. Felix is plastered to my back so I can’t move.”

“I love group hugs!” the Felix in question exclaims.

Jisung grimaces into Hyunjin’s neck. “I don’t.”

“The back of someone’s hand is pressed against my crotch,” Jeongin says cheerfully.

The hug falls apart within seconds.

After much apologising – Chan can’t look Jeongin in the eye for at least five minutes afterwards, his cheeks two flaming spots of red – and some mingling with the other dance students, they end up spilling onto the streets of Seoul in search of the restaurant Minho has booked to celebrate Felix and Hyunjin making it through their first recital. The meal is loud and rambunctious in the way any gathering with the eight of them tends to be. It’s louder still when they go for a few drinks afterwards (Jeongin included since his birthday is just over a week away and Chan is in the mood to humour it).

By the time they’re back in their student accommodation, Jisung is exhausted. It’s nothing on Felix and Hyunjin who look dead on their feet as they wait for the lift doors to open.

“Should we reschedule movie night for tomorrow?” Jisung quietly asks Hyunjin. “I don’t think you’ll make it fifteen minutes into the movie at this rate.”

He shakes his head. “You promised me we’d have it tonight. Don’t flake out on me now.”

“You look like you’re ready to drop, man.”

“I don’t care,” Hyunjin says, even as he stifles a yawn. “You can’t just leave when there’s a Studio Ghibli movie on the table.”

The lift doors open and the four of them shuffle in, Seungmin bringing up the rear. Jisung watches him press the buttons for their floors and then turn to study the way Hyunjin sags against Jisung’s shoulder. He offers Seungmin a little smile under the attention and receives a nod in reply. The three of them get off on floor five, leaving Felix to travel the rest of the way back himself.

Less than a minute later, Jisung finds himself sat on Hyunjin’s bed with the boy himself sprawled across his lap. He runs his fingers through Hyunjin’s hair, still slightly damp from sweat, and earns a sigh for it.

“I’m exhausted,” Hyunjin groans.

“Then go to sleep.”

“No,” he whines. “I want to watch a movie.”

“You’re so stubborn.” Jisung rolls his eyes. “Look, we’ll watch the movie when we wake up tomorrow alright? Instead of a movie night, we’ll have a movie day and just camp out in here and snack a lot. How does that sound?”

There’s a long silence, so long Jisung thinks Hyunjin might’ve fallen asleep on him already, but then Hyunjin shifts minutely and concedes his reluctant defeat. He slowly rises from his sprawl to get ready for bed. Seeing how badly he’s swaying on his feet from his exhaustion, Jisung takes pity on him and wipes Hyunjin’s makeup off for him. He takes his time, making sure to wipe away every last drop of foundation and trying not to be too rough when it comes to removing his eyeshadow. When he’s done, he sends Hyunjin off to the shower to wash all the grime off himself.

As soon as Hyunjin returns, he lies down right beside Jisung, facing him with sleepy eyes.

“You’re getting my pillow all wet,” Jisung complains, though there’s no real heat to it.

Hyunjin yawns, slinging an arm over his waist. “You’ll survive. Goodnight, Hannie. If I wake up and you’re not here for our movie day, I’ll hunt you down and launch my laptop at you.”

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” he replies.

Hyunjin simply presses a peck to his lips and then sinks into a deep sleep.

The invites go out as soon as exams are over for everybody. This Friday night, mere days before the second semester is scheduled to crash into their lives, Chan’s house will become Bambam’s once again; the site of a party that is promised to be the likes of which no one at this uni has ever seen. Given how tame his New Years’ Eve get-together was, the fourth year is determined to leave his mark with yet another memorable bash in a long string of many.

The part of Jisung that feels nauseous at the thought of that much interaction with people he doesn’t know is repelled by the prospect. A much louder voice in his head, however, is nothing but curious. He kinda wants to see how BamBam’s going to live up to the hype – because he _always_ lives up to the hype. He’s BamBam after all.

(Plus, there are rumours that he’s invited some of his older friends to the party. Now Jisung couldn’t care less about whether Jackson Wang, the original frat boy to end all frat boys, is going to be there, but there are whispers that Cho Seungyoun will be and… Well. Jisung is a Music Composition student. There’s no way he hasn’t heard about Cho Seungyoun. The man’s a myth and a legend, the kind that is larger than life and too good to be true. Jisung would be beyond stupid if he passed up the opportunity to meet him.)

If Jisung has to sum up the party in one word, it’s this: explosive.

It’s an explosion of noise and colour and people, all spilling out of BamBam’s house and onto the street up to several yards away from the entrance. The windows and doors are thrown open, coaxing in what little relief the frosty February air will bring to a house that is crammed with sweaty bodies. The speakers are earsplittingly loud, the heavy punch of the bass spat out to shake the walls and floors, and the students aren’t much better, everyone having to yell into their neighbour’s ears just to be heard. The lights have all been switched off too because apparently the party has a _theme_ this time and the theme is neon.

Little bowls of neon paint balance precariously on whatever free surface exists. Jisung just _knows_ at least one of them will be knocked over by the end of the night which is going to be a bitch to clean up, though thankfully he won’t have to deal with that. Their contents are all over the partygoers. Streaks of paint swiped across foreheads, green swirls painstakingly spanning the ribcage of shirtless boys, lines of vivid orange tracing each notch of someone’s spine like the stripes of a tiger.

Jisung himself is a canvas for the neon. When they arrive, Felix paints two clumsy hearts onto his cheeks, one on each side in two different colours. He disappears mere seconds later, allowing Hyunjin to wrap his fingers around Jisung’s face and tilt it to carefully write his name along the cut of Jisung’s jaw, seven little letters printed in in a clumsy scrawl _._ He presses a kiss to the skin afterwards and pulls back with lips that are stained a bright blue.

Jisung kisses him so that his are too and then returns the favour.

He swipes a brush across the length of Hyunjin’s left cheekbone, the yellow tracing it in a poor imitation of gold. He paints a lopsided heart across the other to match his, then livens it up with a smiley face drawn on top. He scrawls his name across Hyunjin’s forehead – _HAN JISUNG_ – and it looks like a statement.

“There you go, pretty boy,” he drawls, gently flicking Hyunjin’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

Hyunjin cranes his head to look at what little piece of the hallway mirror remains visible. He sees the name branded obnoxiously across his face and laughs, his smile just a little wolfish.

“Cute,” he comments. “We’re matching.”

“Couple clothing has nothing on us.”

That’s about as much as they get to say about the topic, or about anything at all, because Chan chooses that moment to burst free from the knot of students next to them in the hallway. He fumbles for Jisung’s hand with a cry of excitement.

“Sungie!” he exclaims, his eyes bright with cheer. They’re slightly glazed over with a glossy look. Paired with the pink flush that underscores every exposed bit of his alabaster skin, it’s clear to see that he’s already knocked back a few drinks, but he still appears to be on the right side of tipsy. “Come, come, there are some people I want you to meet!”

Jisung barely has enough time to latch onto Hyunjin with his other hand before he’s dragged right through the wall of students Chan emerged from. He trips over ankles and stumbles onto toes, but the music is so loud he knows his apologies won’t be heard even if he voiced them. Behind him, Hyunjin doesn’t seem to feel the same; he can feel him stumble along in his wake, his mortified repetitions of _sorry_ for people who couldn’t care less faintly heard over the music.

They’re ushered into what was once the living room but now is the epicentre for the party. So many people have crammed themselves into the tiny space, it’s a miracle the walls aren’t straining with the volume of them. Jisung wonders how Chan can even see the people he wants Jisung to meet considering he’s not the tallest of guys, but he drags Jisung – and consequently Hyunjin – around all the same.

Most of the people they end up meeting turn out to be other Music students, ones Jisung has sometimes seen around the department but has never spoken to. It’s a direct consequence of painfully shy around new people at the best of times and a hermit at the worst.

Unfortunately, this is the time to be neither. Life is all about social networking and for the music industry, that is ten times as true, so sometimes a guy has to talk to people. Much as he might like to, Jisung can’t complain about the situation he finds himself in – Chan’s the one putting in all the effort for him, after all. He’s creating links for Jisung; all he has to do is keep them intact. So Jisung puts on his best smile and tries to let the buzz of the party infect him enough so that he can try to match the drunken enthusiasm of Chan’s friends.

(Of course, nothing can quite match Cho Seungyoun’s level of enthusiasm. Jisung tries his best, but the man really _is_ larger than life, especially in so boisterous a setting, and sits in the very centre of a huge group of people hanging onto his every word. But Jisung still manages to catch a few minutes with him to discuss rap styles and various production software packages while Hyunjin falls into conversation with Seungyoun’s boyfriend, a fellow dance student from the year above.)

Truth be told, the party is a little hard to digest, but Jisung’s not overwhelmed yet. Still, when Felix jumps out of the crowd to latch onto Jisung’s neck and beg him for a dance, he shakes his head.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for that yet.”

“Aw come on,” Felix says with a pout. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah Jisungie,” says Minho, coming up behind them. He runs a hand through his hair, looking like he’s walked right out of an ad for some sexy new perfume. “It’ll be fun. Let’s have a dance off.”

“Or,” Jisung says, detangling himself from Felix’s hold and nudging him towards the boy on his left, “you can dance with Hyunjin seeing as how he actually likes doing it and I can grab a drink from the kitchen.”

Felix slots himself into Hyunjin’s side like a key in a padlock. “Really, Hyunjin? You’d dance with me?” He looks up at him with starry eyes.

It’s a hard feat to resist Felix on a good day. The guy is like sunshine bundled into a tiny blonde human being, how can anyone say no to him? But when he’s drunk and he gets all soft and clingy, it’s pretty much impossible. Few people are immune to his charms and Hyunjin is not one of them, meaning he just about melts under Felix’s attention. He breaks out in an indulging smile.

“Sure, Lixie. I can dance with you if you want.”

“Yes – you – can.”

Felix punctuates each word with a jab of his finger to Hyunjin’s chest, ignoring his answering squawks of pain, and then drags him off to the centre of the living room where their makeshift dancefloor is laid out. For a moment, it’s just Jisung and Minho left, the two of them looking after them in silence, before Jisung points his thumb towards the kitchen.

“I meant it when I said I’m grabbing something to drink,” he says, leaning towards Minho to be heard. “You wanna come with or are you going out there with those two?”

Minho glances at where Hyunjin and Felix are trying to put a sexy twist on the Orange Justice and grimaces. “I think I need to bleach whatever the fuck that was out of my mind. Lead the way, Captain.”

Jisung laughs and does just that. He links their arms together beforehand so that they don’t lose each other in the crowd of people on the way to the kitchen – although to be fair, Minho lives here so it’s not like he doesn’t know the way regardless. The kitchen is relatively calmer than the living room, though still pretty busy in the grand view of things, and is fully lit unlike the rest of the house.

“We figured it’d be good if people could actually see what they’re drinking,” Minho explains when Jisung points this out to him. “It’s a lot safer that way.”

They find Seungmin nursing a beer by himself at the table.

“Not interested in joining the rest of the guys in the living room, Minnie?” Minho asks, swiping a bottle of vodka for himself. Jisung opts for soju instead. “You seem a little lonely here.”

“I was there for a bit, but it’s too hot,” he says, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I needed a breather. Also, someone stole your kettle to piss in it in the utility room. It was pretty vile.”

Jisung groans in disgust.

Minho slams his vodka bottle onto the table and growls, “Was it Jungwoo? I bet it was fucking Jungwoo again.” He looks ready to hunt the guy down.

Not particularly bothered, Seungmin only offers a half-hearted shrug. Evidently, Minho takes that as a confirmation that yes it was, and with nothing more than a murderous curse, he spins on his heel in search of the boy. Thirty seconds later, he stalks back into the kitchen to grab his vodka again. Jisung watches them go with raised brows.

“ _Was_ it Jungwoo?” he asks Seungmin.

“Nope.”

“You’re evil, you know that?” he says with a little laugh.

Snickering into his beer, Seungmin echoes the amusement with a small smile. It fades into something more pensive when he turns to meet Jisung’s eyes. “Hyunjin’s not with you, then?” he asks after a moment.

Jisung blinks, thrown off-guard by the sudden change in topic. “Uh… no. I left him on the dancefloor with Lixie since – well, since I don’t dance. Figured I’d grab a drink instead.”

“Fair enough.”

Seungmin appraises him for another moment or two before he returns to his beer. The two of them finish their drinks off in silence and though Jisung wouldn’t call it uneasy, he still can’t bring himself to be wholly relaxed in Seungmin’s presence. It’s irrational and he knows it. They’ve been friends since they were four years old, there’s nothing to be uncomfortable with. But then again, Jisung realises with a sharp note of surprise, this is the first time he’s been alone with Seungmin since he started dating Hyunjin.

Well, shit.

“I should go and show my face some more,” says Seungmin once he’s drained his bottle.

He returns Jisung’s nod of acknowledgement and puts his empty bottle in the recycling bin before he weaves his way through the crowd and into the living room. Jisung watches him go, wondering how they both let things unravel to this point.

Surprisingly, he spends most of the party away from Hyunjin. Once he’s finished his soju, he’s accosted by his flatmate Jongho and then somehow ends up in the garden with the other boy’s friends. Changbin is also there, hanging off Jung Wooyoung’s shoulder, so Jisung isn’t too out of his element despite how chaotic the rest of the group is. He just sits back and listens to their wild little conversations, his head tipped back to try to catch a glimpse of the stars above. Jongho pushes a mini Pringles tub into his hand, sour cream flavoured. Jisung finishes it within a minute.

When he gets too cold, he heads back inside. Here, he splits his time between sipping on drinks with Chan, clinging onto Minho when he wants a little comfort from the frenzy, and entertaining Felix’s antics. He thinks about Jeongin, stuck at home several miles away, and sends him twenty Snaps in a row because he deserves to know he’s missed.

He does spot Hyunjin in and around the party. The two exchange smiles whenever their eyes meet, but for the most part, Jisung is content to let Hyunjin enjoy his time with his other friends without having to worry about keeping an eye out for the state Jisung is in.

When he decides to call it a night, however, he clambers to his feet and seeks Hyunjin out to let him know. They came here together, after all, so it’s only right to. He finds him on the bottom half of the stairs, playing Uno with some coursemates. Or at least, something involving Uno cards because he can’t remember Uno ever including the stack of cards you need to pick up from being arranged in a house that can’t be toppled over.

“Hyunjinnie,” he says just loud enough to be heard by the boy.

He snaps his head up, his eyes landing on Jisung immediately. Bright and shiny, they’re also _just_ unfocused enough to give Jisung a fairly good indication of how inebriated he is right now. The smile that lights up his face is lopsided and wide with the carefree nature of someone who is drunk.

“Hannie!” he cries out. He smacks his hand against his thighs insistently. “Come! Come and sit down, come and play with us. It’s really fun, I promise it is! You’ll love it, I know you will.”

Jisung can’t help but chuckle at how eager he is. Still, he gently shakes his head. “I’m too tired. I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading home now.” He turns to catch Seungmin’s eye, having noticed him wedged into the corner of the bottom step. “Can you make sure he gets back safely? I don’t want to drag him back so early when he’s having fun.”

“Sure,” Seungmin replies.

Satisfied, Jisung turns back to Hyunjin and throws him a wave. “I’ll be off now. Have fun.”

“What?” Hyunjin’s smile falls into a frown. His eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “Y-You’re leaving?”

Jisung nods.

Hyunjin stands up abruptly, Uno cards flying everywhere in his wake. His friends cry out, scrambling to grab them as the house of cards collapses, but Hyunjin pays them no mind. He bounds down the stairs so quickly, it’s like he doesn’t see any of the other bodies on it. Startled, Jisung quickly darts forward to steady him before he can have a nasty fall.

“’M goin’ with you.”

“No, you should stay and have fun with your friends,” Jisung dismisses. “I’ll be fine. Finish off your Uno game and come home later with Seungmin and Felix.”

“I’m going with you,” Hyunjin repeats firmly. He grabs Jisung’s hand and begins to tug them towards the door, pushing through the crowd. “You can’t walk home alone, I need to protect you.”

“Protect me how? You’re drunk.”

Jisung laughs but follows him all the same. If Hyunjin is so insistent on walking him home, then who is Jisung to argue with him? The company will be nice.

The walk back to his flat is pleasant. The February chill does a good job of cooling them down after the sauna that was BamBam’s house, the air even sobering Hyunjin a little bit, though he still stumbles a little too much to be functional. He also chats Jisung’s ear off nonstop, mostly about how he misses his dog Kkami but also about how he likes holding Jisung’s hand even if it is clammy as fuck.

On second thought, maybe he’s still drunk.

“’S like a charm,” he says as the lift takes them up to Jisung’s flat. He crumples onto Jisung’s shoulder, eyes drifting shut. “Like a charming point, you know? Like it’s clammy but it’s, like, warm and, like, that’s probably why it’s so clammy in the first place. ‘Cause it’s warm and you’re warm and I like your hands.”

“Thanks,” Jisung says in amusement, shepherding him into the hallway. “How very kind of you.”

He perks up, looking at him with a bright smile. “You think so? You really think so? Aw, you’ve never called me kind before so that’s so very nice of you – no, wait! That’s so very _kind_ of you! See, now we can be kind together. You can be kind and I can be kind and – “

He miscalculates the turn into Jisung’s room and walks right into the doorframe. Jisung doesn’t even bother to hide his laugh, but all it does is have Hyunjin smile at him even more happily. A note of pride underscores it, as if he’s glad he can coax such a response from Jisung. He recovers quickly from his collision and follows Jisung into his bedroom, hot on his heels.

“We can be kind together, isn’t that so cool? And everyone will look at us and be jealous because we’re so kind and – “

Jisung shoves an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts at him, cutting off his spiel for the second time. “Change your clothes. I’ll grab you a glass of water to sober you up some more.”

Hyunjin makes a face at the bundle in his arms. “I don’t want to.”

“Well, you have to. You smell of alcohol, I’m not getting that on my sheets. I just changed them the other day, man.”

“I don’t want to,” he insists.

Jisung rolls his eyes. He keeps them heavenward and mentally asks for some patience before he turns back to Hyunjin.

“Look,” he says, lifting his own top off. “I’m going to change too. So it won’t just be you changing, we can both do it together. We’ll be kind _and_ in clean clothes.”

Hyunjin watches him strip with such rapt attention that Jisung can’t help but blush something fierce. He turns his back on him, hoping the fumble for his own night clothes will mask the flush rising in his cheeks. Behind him, he hears the rustle of clothes as Hyunjin follows suit.

Jisung has just shrugged on a faded t-shirt that has seen far better days when a pair of hands slink around his waist, slipping under his shirt to press against the bare skin of his torso. He feels Hyunjin’s body behind him, one hot hard line curved against his own back. He has no shirt on, that much is clear. All that separates them is the thin material of Jisung’s t-shirt. The realisation has Jisung freeze.

Hyunjin bends his head, his lips skimming across the exposed stretch of skin just below the nape of Jisung’s neck. He can’t help the way he shudders at the sensation, melting into his arms. Hyunjin’s mouth travels to the side, leaving a trail of short wet kisses that has Jisung breathing unsteadily. His thumbs trace circles into Jisung’s skin and Jisung’s head spins. His breaths sound deafening to his ears, his heartbeat loud and furious under the surface of his skin.

He manages to find his voice. “H-Hyunjin – “

“You’re so pretty, Hannie,” Hyunjin says. His voice is so low, it has heat crawling into the bottom of Jisung’s stomach. He kisses just behind Jisung’s ear, pulling him closer when his knees threaten to give out, and murmurs it again. “You’re so pretty.”

It should be embarrassing how quickly Jisung unravels under his touch. It’s only been a handful of seconds and he’s already a mess. He catches a glimpse of them in the reflection of his mirror: the way he sags in Hyunjin’s arms, the open part of his lips as he gasps for breath. The boy curled around him, nosing at his ear. They’re not even doing much, but they look so _indecent_. It excites him more than it should.

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, enticing a small whine out of Jisung that has him heating up, but it’s only to pull Jisung around to face him. He barely has a second to drink in the hungry look on Hyunjin’s face before their mouths collide.

They kiss with the sort of desperation that comes with not wanting to think things through, just wanting them done. Hyunjin’s hands are everywhere, caressing Jisung’s body while crushing him to his chest, and Jisung’s are just as bold. He maps Hyunjin’s torso with his palms, memorising every last inch of it with his hands. He licks into Hyunjin’s mouth, the fruity aftertaste of alcohol on his tongue flooding into Jisung’s mouth, and then kisses along his jaw. He gets bolder the more he travels along Hyunjin’s neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth and then swipes his tongue across it, soothing the bites he’s left.

Arms still wrapped around each other, Hyunjin walks the two of them back until they topple onto the bed, neither of them wanting to let go even if it’s just for a second. Before they settle down properly, he tears Jisung’s top off, exposing his body to the chill of the room. Goosebumps erupt across his skin. Hyunjin chuckles, guiding him back until he’s lying flat on the mattress.

“You’re so pretty, Hannie,” he repeats.

He nips at the underside of Jisung’s jaw. Jisung moans, a hand trailing over the back of Hyunjin’s shoulder to urge him closer, but Hyunjin doesn’t press too close. He moves down Jisung’s torso instead, leaving a trail of kisses and bites in his wake, and worshipping his body with his lips. Jisung’s legs find themselves slung over Hyunjin’s shoulders as he mouths at the waistband of Jisung’s jeans, his fingers hooking around the belt loops, ready to pull them off –

And it is then that clarity returns to Jisung with the full force of a wrecking ball.

He pushes Hyunjin’s head away from him with a gasp. “W-Wait, stop. Stop. We can’t do this.” His legs fall away from Hyunjin’s shoulders as the other boy sits up with a confused noise and Jisung rushes to follow suit. “You’re drunk. We can’t do this.”

“I’m not _that_ drunk,” Hyunjin says with a wounded pout that screams that he is. No one makes that face when they’re not drunk.

He sits on his haunches, looking beseechingly at Jisung. And God, just the fucking sight of him in Jisung’s bed. It should be illegal to look like this. His hair is a mess, his skin is flushed and bruises are already blooming against his throat. The tent in his boxers is glaringly apparent and he looks like he’s ready to wreck someone. He’s fucking gorgeous and he makes Jisung want to _explode_.

But he’s drunk.

His eyes are still glazed with the filminess of alcohol, made all the more apparent by the lust that sits beneath it. He’s drunk and this can’t happen.

“Drunk enough,” says Jisung, biting his lip uncertainly.

He regrets it a second later when Hyunjin’s eyes fasten onto the action. The pout on his face melts into a wolfish smile that has Jisung’s mind nearly blank out. Hyunjin leans forward as gracefully as a leopard that is preparing to strike its prey. He presses the pad of his thumb against the bottom lip Jisung has trapped beneath his teeth and guides it free. Then he leans forward to brush his nose against Jisung’s.

“C’mon, Jisung,” he whispers. “Don’t worry about whether I’m drunk or not. I’ll still want this either way.” He takes Jisung’s hand and places it onto his lap so Jisung can feel just how _much_ he wants it. “Don’t you think I’m pretty, Hannie? Don’t you want me too?”

Jisung’s head spins. All around him is Hyunjin. All he’s aware of is Hyunjin. He can feel him against his skin, in his veins, overpowering his mind. He wants him. He wants him _so badly_ it’s not even funny.

But he pulls his hand away and uses it to push Hyunjin back. Not roughly, but hard enough to get the message across.

“You’re drunk,” he says sternly, slipping off the bed. He reaches down for his t-shirt and pulls it back over his head. When he pokes his head free, Hyunjin is looking at him with such dewy eyes that Jisung can’t help the way his heart twists, even if it only confirms that he’s made the right choice in saying no. He sighs. “Look. If you still want this when you’re not drunk, then that’s a conversation we can have at a better time. We can do all of this properly instead of a quick job at two in the morning when we have fucking neon paint on our faces from BamBam’s party.”

Hyunjin brightens. “Really? You mean that?”

Jisung points down at the evidence of how much he wants that. “Sure do. But until then, we need to wash our faces, put on some fresh clothes and drink some water and then go to sleep. Because I was telling the truth at the party when I said I was tired. Right now, I just need to get into bed properly. I’m ready to knock the fuck out.”

“Okay!” Hyunjin jumps up from his sprawl on the bed. “I can do that! If it makes you happy, I’ll do all of that.”

He offers Jisung an earnest smile that Jisung softly returns. It’s hard to believe that this is the same Hyunjin from just a few moments ago. Where he once looked like he was ready to pull Jisung apart and have him seeing stars, he now appears soft and pliant, like an overgrown teddy bear Jisung just wants to fit his body around in a hug. His hair flops into his eyes, tousled and overgrown, and Jisung brushes it back with gentle fingers.

“Cute,” he comments.

Hyunjin smiles again, this time much softer. He presses a kiss to the inside of Jisung’s wrist, right above where his pulse skips a beat.

Later when they’ve finally scrubbed the paint from their bodies, their faces now rubbed raw and pink, the two of them head into the kitchen where Jisung pours Hyunjin a glass of cold water. He slides it over the kitchen island into the other boy’s waiting hands. Hyunjin wraps his fingers around the glass and looks down at it pensively. He already looks more sober than he was fifteen minutes ago with or without the water.

“You alright?” Jisung checks in on him as he peels himself a tangerine.

Hyunjin nods slowly. Then he looks up and catches Jisung’s eye. “Did I make you happy?” he wants to know. Okay so maybe he’s not as sober as he looks.

Jisung tries not to laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “You did.”

Hyunjin nods again, looking far too serious for the situation. “Good. I’m glad.”

Saturday morning rolls around and Hyunjin complains the whole time, whimpering away from the sun’s attack on his eyes. He stays under Jisung’s covers for the better part of the day, only emerging to despondently shovel oatmeal into his mouth when he’s forced to, and then swears he’s never going to drink that much ever again. They both know that’s a lie, but pretend not to.

Jisung also pretends like he never told Hyunjin that he’s down to have sex with him when they’re sober. For a number of reasons actually, but here are two.

Firstly because it’s kinda fucking embarrassing to recall their conversation. Like seriously, he wants to throw up and break out in hives whenever he remembers how he stumbled his way through that proposition, all because drunk Hwang Hyunjin has a lethal set of puppy dog eyes. Secondly because Hyunjin is also pretending like the conversation never happened which is… well, it’s a whole host of things Jisung doesn’t want to get into. And he won’t. Because the conversation never happened.

Unfortunately, not everything can be denied.

“Jesus Christ,” says Minho with a low whistle when Jisung arrives outside the supermarket on Sunday afternoon. He reaches out to move the collar of Jisung’s hoodie to one side, drinking in the hickeys that decorate his skin. “Hyunjin went ham on that neck, fucking hell.”

Jisung jerks away from him, flushing pink. “He’s… very enthusiastic sometimes.”

“I can see that. Not going to lie, I never pegged him to be the type. We never saw Seungmin like this.”

A sharp note of annoyance strikes through him. Seungmin, Seungmin, Seungmin. For fuck’s sake, does everything about Jisung have to be compared to Seungmin? Is he the gold standard of boyfriends now or something?

“Seungmin’s not his boyfriend,” Jisung snaps. “I am.”

Minho raises an eyebrow. “I am aware of that.”

Jisung turns red. “Sorry,” he mutters, scuffing the ground with the toe of his sneakers. “I woke up a little crabby today.”

“Eh. It happens to the best of us. Now come on, let’s go inside before I freeze my balls off. It’s cold as fuck today, I can barely feel my fingers.”

They hurry into the supermarket, a wall of warmth smacking into them the moment they walk in. Jisung isn’t really after anything in particular today although he does splurge on some snacks since his stash is running low on supplies. All thanks to Hyunjin, of course, though he’ll deny it if anyone accuses him.

Jisung only came because he didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity to hang out with Minho, even if it means they’re just shopping for a new kettle for his house.

“Can you believe someone told me to just keep the one we have?” he exclaims, angrily comparing litre capacities between two models. “They said that scientifically speaking, it’ll be okay because boiling water gets rid of the bacteria in it anyways or some bullshit like that. I said I’d piss in their coffee if they ever suggested that to me again.”

“Of course you did.”

“I’m not using a piss kettle, Jisungie! I refuse. Do I look like I was raised in a fucking barn or something?”

He grimaces. “Do you want me to answer that truthfully?”

Minho kicks him in the shin.

After they’re done with their supermarket run, they find a coffee shop off the main street to camp out in and warm themselves up with a couple of hot drinks. Jisung teases Minho about betraying the campus café he works at to which he rattles off a very dramatic statement about capitalism and the farce of the loyal consumer. Jisung doesn’t really know what he’s going on about, but Minho is entertaining when he’s passionate about something so he doesn’t really care either way.

Plus, this coffee shop sells a really nice cheesecake and the slices are _huge._ The campus café can get lost for all he cares.

“Hey,” Minho says suddenly about an hour into their stay. The coffee shop has students scattered all across the tables, laptops open or phones out, so neither of them feel too guilty about leeching off their Wi-Fi and heating even if their hot chocolates are long cold. He taps Jisung’s ankle with his foot to call for his attention. “I have something to tell you, but it might be a bit weird.”

Jisung looks up from his phone, the last bit of his second slice of cheesecake tucked into his cheek. “You’re the one who pissed in the kettle, aren’t you?”

Minho blinks several times in succession and then screws his face up in revulsion. “What the fuck? No, of course I wasn’t. What do you think I am, some sort of heathen or something?”

“Well, what else could it be? Everything you say is weird, I don’t see why this would be any different.”

“It just is.”

Jisung eyes him warily. Now Minho may do many things, but admitting that he’s weird isn’t one of them. He _is_ weird – and Jisung says that with complete love, of course – but he’s never viewed himself as quirky or off-beat. He just does what he does and that’s that. So for him to open up a conversation that way has Jisung’s mind scrambling in all sorts of directions for what Minho might say.

“You’re not going to say you think the spirit of Michael Jackson is in you, are you?” he asks hesitantly. “I mean, you’re a great dancer, but MJ was like – “

“I want to say sorry,” Minho blurts out, cutting across him. Jisung falls silent with a confused blink. Laughing nervously, Minho scratches at the dried mark of hot chocolate on the side of his mug. “I know this is a bit out of the blue, but I’ve been thinking recently and… you and Hyunjin, you – you really care about each other, right?”

Jisung blinks again. He is no less confused than he was three seconds ago.

“Uh.” He drags the word out uncertainly. “Yeah?”

“Right. You do. And I feel like I haven’t been the most… supportive person for you when it comes to your relationship, nowhere near as I could’ve been and I’m – “

“Hyung,” Jisung interrupts, baffled. “It’s fine. I promise I didn’t even really notice that you weren’t. ‘Cause everyone was kinda off about us from the beginning, right? I mean, I don’t blame you guys, Hyunjin and I weren’t exactly best friends before we started dating so it made sense that you were all weirded out by us, so it’s okay – “

“That’s the thing,” Minho says. “I wasn’t weirded out.”

Jisung frowns. “Huh?”

“I mean, I _was_ sort of. No one really predicted that you and Hyunjin would start dating, you know? You were always at each other’s throats, it’s a wonder you even stayed friends for as long as you did. So in that sense, I was weirded out, but that’s not why I was… why I acted the way I did.” He takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his head. “It was because I had a bit of a crush on you. And I was hurt and – and it doesn’t excuse anything, but I just thought you deserved the truth either way.”

Jisung’s mind slams to a stop. The synapses of his brain close off, all activity in his head grounds to a halt. All he can do is gape at Minho, the last crumbs of his cheesecake still at the back of his mouth, and wonder what the fuck is going on. Minho had a _what_?

“You have a crush on me?” he finally splutters.

“Had,” Minho corrects. “As in, I used to but not anymore. I guess seeing you and Hyunjin be so happy together kinda killed it off. Why do you think I can even admit any of this to you?”

“B-But – you. You – you never mentioned anything to me. You never said anything!”

Minho makes a face and fiddles with a teaspoon he’s snatched from Jisung’s plate. “I know I didn’t. It’s kind of a long and stupid story.”

Jisung’s brain still hasn’t kicked back into gear. Still, he manages a shrug. “I’ve got time.”

Minho sighs, partly amused as though he figured Jisung would say that. Of course, he can’t have expected anything else, not after the bombshell he’s just dropped. What else would Jisung answer with? Steeling himself, Minho puts down the teaspoon and meets Jisung’s eyes. When he speaks, however, it’s not what Jisung expects.

“Do you remember when I first started uni?” he asks. “I used to call you pretty much every day for at least an hour and I’d text you nonstop throughout my lectures.”

Jisung looks at him quizzically. “Yeah? You found them boring and you knew I’d reply to you if you messaged me. What about it?”

Minho smiles, as if reminiscing something. “I never told you back then, but that wasn’t the real reason. I mean, a lot of my lectures _were_ boring, to be fair, but I could’ve messaged anyone. I could’ve messaged Changbin – I _did_ message Changbin. But I liked texting you the most because… well, because you’re my best friend. I’ve known you for as long as I can remember and because of that, you’ve always been able to make me feel better. And in my first year of uni, I really needed that. I found things really hard here. I know I made out to you like I was doing fine, like I was thriving here, but I was actually pretty lonely.”

Something in Jisung’s heart twists. “But… what about Channie-hyung? He was here too.”

“You know what Chan’s like,” says Minho. “He’s so popular on campus, it’s almost sickening. Everyone knows him and it can be pretty hard to live up to or stomach when things aren’t the same for you. I mean, he never made me feel like I wasn’t welcome, but…

“Picture this, alright? You’ve just come into uni and you’re finding it a little difficult to make friends because people think you’re intimidating or weird. And then there’s Chan, your friend from back home. He’s a year older than you and he’s popular and he invites you to hang out all the time which is cool! Except he has his own group of friends. And they’re all just as popular as him and just as loved on campus and you can’t help but feel like you’re nothing but the loser first year who's always bothering them by hanging around. You know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help the way you feel.” He lets out a small, humourless laugh. “I didn’t want to be the lame kid from back home that Chan couldn’t shake off. I didn’t want his pity.”

Jisung bites his lip. “Hyung…”

Noticing his quietly festering distress, Minho chuckles. For real, this time.

“It’s fine,” he reassures Jisung, nudging his foot underneath the table. “I’ve gotten over all of that now. But yeah, I was pretty lonely back then. So it made me latch onto you because it was like you were the only person who made me feel normal again. And somewhere along the way, I developed the hugest crush on you. I didn’t even realise it until one of my flatmates asked me if this Jisung I was always talking to was my boyfriend and I… I didn’t want to say no? Talking to you made me happy and I felt so secure around you. I _wanted_ you to be my boyfriend.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jisung can’t wrap his mind around what he’s hearing. He remembers when Minho moved out for uni. Though they tried to meet up regularly, he recalls how unreachable Minho still seemed to him during that time. He felt like a distant star, burning brightly as he thrived in the city but from a distance that seemed uncrossable to Jisung. All Jisung could do was admire him from faraway.

“Because you were sixteen or seventeen,” Minho says, “and barely halfway through high school. Two years is a small age gap when you’re older, but to be dating someone who’s not even legal when I’m already in uni? I just felt weird about it. And then by the time second year came around, my feelings for you had calmed down a lot. I was happier here and wasn’t using you as an emotional crutch anymore. I didn’t really see any need to shake things up.”

“So then why were you upset about me and Hyunjin?”

Minho sighs. “I don’t know. I guess it was just… attachment or something? I don’t know, I think I just felt like you and I were inevitable. You know how no one was surprised when Hyunjin and Seungmin started dating in high school? I guess I thought that would happen with me and you. We’d just come together when the right time came and no one would be surprised. People would just look at us and say _yeah, that makes sense_. But then you started dating Hyunjin and it was like a wake-up call that I couldn’t just expect you to never date around or assume we would end up together. I guess you could say I was jealous.”

It’s probably a stupid question to ask, but Jisung can’t help himself. Biting his lip hesitantly, he ventures, “And are you… are you still jealous?”

He’s hardly finished speaking when Minho starts shaking his head vehemently. Maybe Jisung should feel offended by the passion with which he does it, but all he can do is crack a smile at how serious Minho appears to be about this.

“No,” he exclaims. “If anything, I’m really happy for you guys. I’ll be honest, I never thought you’d last, but you and Hyunjin… you’re really good for each other. Seeing you two together made me realise how this lingering crush I had on you was kind of born out of comfort if anything? Out of familiarity, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I love you so much, Jisungie, and I always will do. You really are home to me. But not in that way. Not anymore. Which is why I wanted to apologise today and tell you the truth because I just think being honest with you is the best way to get closure on all of this, you know?”

Closure. What a funny concept. Jisung has never been the type to confront his feelings if they’re uncomfortable to acknowledge, but here Minho is admitting to everything he’s felt just because he feels like the _both_ of them have a right to that knowledge. Like he owes it to Jisung to be truthful. To himself.

“I had a huge crush on you when I was sixteen,” Jisung admits before he can second-guess himself. He watches Minho’s eyes widen in reply. “For pretty much all of my teenage years actually. If you’d asked me out in your first year, I would’ve said yes.”

Minho’s lips part in shock. “Uhhh. I can honestly say I didn’t expect that. I never realised.”

“Really? Hyunjin once told me it was pretty obvious.”

“Hyunjin knows?” he says, surprised. Understanding then dawns on him and he sinks back in his seat, nodding to himself. “Yeah, that makes sense. Wow, everything is so much clearer now.”

“What’s clearer?” Jisung asks, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, but all Minho does is chuckle and knock their ankles together. “Anyways, uh… Since you confessed to having a crush on me in the past, I thought it was only fair if I admitted to mine.”

“Fair enough,” Minho laughs. “It’s over now though, right? Because if you still have a crush on me, things are about to get real sticky real quick and I don’t think I’m prepared for that.”

And that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?

Does Jisung still have a crush on Minho? At the start of the year, he was half in love with the guy and completely convinced that there would be no one else for him. Hell, the whole reason they’re even having this conversation right now is because Jisung agreed to fake-date Hyunjin to make Minho jealous enough to notice him.

With a start, he realises that their plan has worked. Minho _was_ jealous when he saw Jisung dating Hyunjin. He got exactly what he sought out to do in the first place.

It is also in this moment that Jisung finally admits to himself a truth he has been avoiding: for a long time now, none of this has been about making Minho jealous. He’s tried to shy away from the realisation that he no longer has romantic feelings for his best friend, has shoved it to the back of his mind along with the reason behind why that is, only to have them dragged out before him. Now that they’re looking him dead in the eye, he can’t escape the truth.

What he feels for Hyunjin isn’t fake. It hasn’t been for a while.

“I like Hyunjin,” he says quietly, staring at Minho in wonder. “I think… I think I might even be in love with him.”

It might be an earth-shattering realisation for Jisung, but that’s clearly not the case for Minho. He merely offers a shrug of his shoulders and replies, “Probably. With the way you two look at each other, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were.”

He likes Hyunjin. He’s _in love_ with Hyunjin. He doesn’t want what they have to be a long-running gag between the two of them; he wants it to be _real_ , to be one hundred percent authentic. He’s already been treating it like that in his head for the past few weeks, but he wants it to be confirmed. To be shared between the two of them.

He doesn’t overthink it. Doesn’t pause to digest the magnitude of his feelings or what impact they could have. He just shoots to his feet, his chair flying back across the laminate flooring with a screech that has Minho jump, eyes wide.

“Fucking hell, are you okay there, Sungie – “

“I need to find Hyunjin,” he cuts across him, already gathering his things together. “Thanks for having this whole talk with me, hyung. It’s really made me realise some things, but I need to go now before I chicken out like I think I will if I don’t do this now.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Minho says, watching him with baffled eyes. “I’ll catch you later, I guess?”

Jisung doesn’t bother to reply. He just throws his coat on and runs out of the coffee shop, his sneakers smacking against the concrete as he seeks out the boy on his mind.

One might think Hyunjin would be sick of the sight of the dance studios after how much time he’s spent in there these past couple of months practicing for his recital, but he’s a dancer and he loves what he does. Semester two hasn’t even started yet and he’s already decided to book out a room for a couple of hours, claiming that he wants to dance off his hangover from yesterday. Jisung doesn’t understand his reasoning, but it does mean it’s easy enough to find him.

He bursts through the entrance doors of the performance arts building like a whirlwind, startling a girl exiting the ground floor toilets, and rushes to the staircase that leads to the basement floor. As he’s stepping off it, he slows down, wanting to get his breathing under control before he finds Hyunjin. If he’s going to confess, he’s not going to do it like a fish gasping for air.

Satisfied he looks somewhat presentable now, he slowly takes off down the corridor. In his head, he plans out how he’s going to start their conversation when he sees Hyunjin and then lead into what he wants to say. Nerves begin to infect him as all the possible ways he can fumble this creep into his mind, but he is determined to keep them at bay. He’s _going_ to do this. He will.

“Seungmin, stop,” says a sharp voice just as Jisung approaches the turn at the far end of the hallway. Jisung automatically comes to a stop when he realises it belongs to Hyunjin. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Why, because you know I’m saying the truth?” Seungmin replies. “Just because you don’t want to admit something doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Jisung’s eyebrows furrow. He has no idea what they’re talking about, but something tells him he’s not going to like it. Logically, he knows that the right thing to do is make his presence known and cut their conversation short, but something keeps his feet stuck to where he stands. He holds his breath, hoping they haven’t noticed him yet.

“Don’t assume things,” Hyunjin says quietly. “You don’t know me.”

“I’ve known you since I was four years old, Hyunjin. I was your best friend for all of the years since and your boyfriend for two out of fifteen of them. Don’t tell me I don’t know you when I know you better than anyone else in your life does.”

“I’ve known Jisung since I was four too.”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it.” When Hyunjin doesn’t reply to that, Seungmin continues, “Half a year ago, you couldn’t even have a conversation with him without wanting to bite his head off and now you expect me to believe that – that what, this thing between the two of you is going to last forever? You can’t be serious. No one believes that.”

“What am I meant to do about that?” Hyunjin snaps. “Why would that change anything?”

“You can admit the truth, for one.”

“What truth?” he grits out.

“Oh, come off it, Jinnie. I already know that you and Jisung only started dating to get Chan off your backs when he confronted you two about hooking up. Yeah, you’ve probably become genuine friends since then, I don’t doubt _that_ , but you can’t hook up with him forever. You’ll have to stop playing pretend eventually.”

Jisung feels sick. He wishes he had just walked around the corner and stopped them from having this conversation before he heard any of this. He wishes he could still bring himself to do it even now, but he can’t. All he can do is continue to listen in. To take in the truth of Seungmin’s words and remember what he’d forgotten in the run over here.

Of course no one thinks they’re going to last together. It’s what Jisung and Hyunjin were banking on back when they first agreed to their deal. They’re too hard-headed, too similar to one another to ever fit. Puzzle pieces are not identical, they’re complementary. Sooner or later, you have to admit you can’t force two together.

But that’s not what their relationship feels like to him. Yeah, Jisung is just as fiery as Hyunjin and the two of them are no strangers to clashing heads. But he also knows exactly how to calm Hyunjin down when that happens and has felt himself mellow in Hyunjin’s presence in turn. They’ve grown to be more considerate of each other, have learnt how to compromise so that they can be together comfortably. They’re not so incongruent when it comes down to it, not really.

“Why are you doing this, Seungmin?” Hyunjin asks, breaking Jisung out of his reverie. He doesn’t sound angry anymore, just tired.

There’s a small silence.

And then Seungmin confesses, “I miss you.”

Jisung’s stomach tightens. He thinks of Seungmin and Hyunjin when they were sixteen years old, a pair of hearts for eyes and their arms always interlinked. Their town’s very own high school sweethearts, the kind it is rare to see nowadays and all the more admired for it. People thought they would last forever. _Jisung_ thought they would last forever.

But they didn’t. Right?

When Hyunjin speaks, it’s with a low voice. The anger that was absent earlier has returned, a tightly controlled foundation that sits beneath his words. “You don’t get to say that, Seungmin. You’re the one who broke up with me. You’re the one who wanted to move on. Don’t pretend like it wasn’t your idea in the first place.”

“I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard for me.” Seungmin’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence. He falls quiet and then continues, “That doesn’t mean I didn’t regret it afterwards. That I don’t still regret it.”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin starts dangerously, but that’s as far as he goes.

When he doesn’t say anything else, Seungmin says, “Jinnie, I miss you. I miss _us._ We had two years together. Don’t tell me it meant nothing to you when I know it does.”

“Don’t,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “Don’t do this.”

“Why not?” Seungmin whispers. “Can you honestly say you love him?”

There’s no reply, only silence. Jisung waits for an answer with bated breath, but it doesn’t come. All that follows is the rustle of movement and then a sharp inhale of breath that sounds like it came from Hyunjin. Summoning up the courage, Jisung forces himself to round the corner before this can go any further, not wanting to hear any more, only to stop short.

Seungmin has stepped right up to Hyunjin, one hand curled around his shoulder. His eyes are shut and his mouth is pressed against Hyunjin’s. Jisung can’t see the expression on Hyunjin’s face, but he can see that he hasn’t pushed Seungmin away.

Something in Jisung’s chest shatters.

Before either of them can notice him, he turns on his heels and runs back the way he came. Faster than he ran here, faster than he’s ever ran before. Like if he reaches the right speed, he’ll outrun the conversation he overheard, outrun the image seared into the back of his eyelids. Somewhere along the way, he starts to cry, hot beads of tears that wash down his cheeks in rapid flashes of movement. He can’t stop crying. He can’t stop running.

The lift up to his flat has a mirror on the back wall that reflects his pitiful state to him. The red tip of his nose, the grimace his mouth has curled into. He looks as awful as he feels and Jisung wants nothing more than to be able to hide away before the rest of the world can see it. As soon as he’s in his bedroom, he locks the door behind him and sinks to the floor, burying his head in his hands and collapses into sobs.

God, he’s so fucking _stupid._

How could he have ever seriously thought that Hyunjin could’ve fallen for him? It’s never going to be Jisung. It’s never going to be him. In the end, it’s always going to be Seungmin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't kill me :)
> 
> n e ways as per usual, please lemme know what you thought about this chapter. i actually struggled with it quite a bit which is why it took me so long to update :// it's not my best, sorryyyy but tell me what you think of the Revelations either way
> 
> the next chapter is the last one btw! i've actually made a pretty big headstart with it already so it'll be coming a lot sooner than this one did and then we'll have to say goodbye :((( in the meantime let's have fun streaming the album of the year IN生 bc the comeback is in just a couple of days!! i actually can't wait, it looks amazing!! also: happy early birthday to ma bois jisung and felix (+seungminnie! sorry for doing you so dirty with this chappie seungmin, ily really).
> 
> 05/10/20: minor edits made
> 
> [[twitter](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy)] | [[cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjasmine)] | [[socmed aus](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy/status/1238272043033993216)]


	7. seven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which everything finally spills over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's finally up! the last chapter of this series. i'm actually sort of unsure about it, so if it's not my best, i do apologise. this is just where things ended up going. also happy birthday to chan! i hope that funky little man is having a great birthday, he deserves it

**SEVEN.**

He cries for longer than he should. When he tries to think about it objectively, it’s so fucking stupid. He’s sat on his bedroom floor crying into his hands because he’s fallen in love with the boy he’s been pretending to date and said boy doesn’t feel the same. In fact, he’s still caught up on his ex-boyfriend despite claiming otherwise and has even been kissing him behind Jisung’s back. It’s something right out of a trashy teenage novel and Jisung _hates_ it. Hates that it’s happened and hates that it’s affected him this badly.

He knows why they call it heartbreak now. It feels like someone has balled their hand into a fist and punched their way past his ribcage to land a blow to his heart. Has picked it apart with ruthless fingers until it lies in two halves in his chest. The pain feels almost tangible, like he can press down on his body and pinpoint exactly where it lies.

He feels pathetic. More than that, he feels hurt. Just when he thought he could have it all, the rug has been pulled from beneath his feet, sending him sprawling where he stands. For a second there, he really thought that Hyunjin might like him back. That Minho was onto something when he said that Hyunjin seemed so happy with Jisung and genuinely seemed to care for him – not just as a friend but as a boyfriend. That maybe he isn’t the only person in their little relationship who has fallen in love.

What _bullshit_.

All Jisung ever has been is convenient. A means to an end when Hyunjin wanted to show Seungmin he’s moved on – if that’s even what he wanted to do in the first place – and nothing more than that. Even Minho’s crush on him developed because it was convenient. Minho was lonely and Jisung was there and he was _always_ going to be there. It’s a shitty thought to have, but Jisung can’t get it out of his head.

So he cries until he can’t possibly cry anymore and then when he’s done, he stands up from his curled up position on the floor to slide into bed. Eyelids heavy and sore, he lets them drift shut and hopes everything will be better when he next opens them.

He wakes with a start.

For a dazed handful of seconds, he can’t quite figure out what’s going on – why he’s awake, where he is, what time of day it is – before he realises that he’s been startled out of sleep by his ringtone and that his eyes still feel like they have sawdust in them. He sits up, fumbling for his phone and glances down at the screen.

It’s Hyunjin. His stomach tightens and Jisung’s finger moves before he can think twice, rejecting the call. He tucks his phone under his pillow and starts to lean back down when a knock sounds on the door.

“Hannie? Are you awake in there?”

Well, shit.

Jisung shoots back up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Uh, yeah,” he calls out and winces when the words come out in a croak. Jesus Christ, crying for that long really took everything out of him. “Give me one second, I just woke up.”

He doesn’t want to talk to Hyunjin or even see him right now, but he can’t run from this forever. Movements sluggish with reluctance, he clambers out of bed, not bothering to straighten himself up, and then unlatches the lock. He opens the door to Hyunjin’s worried visage, though it quickly transforms into a smile when he sees Jisung on the other side. Jisung hates that it still has his stomach lurching with butterflies.

Hyunjin lets himself in without bothering to wait for permission, already chattering at a million miles per hour as he makes himself at home. “Were you taking a nap or something? Your eyes look really red and tired. Oh wait, you just said you’ve woken up so ignore that question. Sorry, it’s just – you weren’t answering your phone and your door was locked which you never do so I got a bit worried that you might’ve died in here or something. I’m glad you didn’t, it would’ve been pretty inconvenient if you had.”

And it’s that word – that stupid fucking word – that has Jisung’s hurt smouldering into something fiercer. He can feel it burning in his veins, filling his thoughts with rage. How dare Hyunjin stroll into his room and speak so normally to him as if he hasn’t just gotten back from fucking snogging Seungmin or whatever the fuck it is that he did in all this time?

 _Inconvenient._ Oh, he’ll show him inconvenience alright.

Jisung spins around to face Hyunjin, the other boy grinning at him from where he sits on his bed with one of Jisung’s pillows cradled to his chest, and throws it out there without preamble. “I want to call things off.”

Hyunjin’s smile falters. “What?”

“This deal between us. Us pretending to date. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Hyunjin blinks at him and a glimmer of hurt enters his eyes. More than that, he looks genuinely confused and it sends Jisung’s anger spiralling off the edge of a cliff because who the hell is Hyunjin to feel so affected in this situation? He doesn’t deserve to claim anything of the sort.

“You’re breaking up with me?” he asks, wounded.

Jisung shrugs. “I’m calling things off, yeah.”

“What… But why? Why are you doing this? I – I don’t understand, I thought things were going well between us – “

 _So did I_ , he thinks venomously.

On the surface, however, all he can offer Hyunjin is another careless shrug. Yeah, he might be torn up on the inside, but he’s too proud to show that. “Yes, well. I just think it’s time for us to move on. We were only meant to do this for two months anyways and it’s been twice that so I figured it’s the right time. There’s no point in dragging this out.”

The hurt on Hyunjin’s face transforms into something deeper, this time tinged with anger. But above all of that is the constant thread of confusion, the way he stares at Jisung like he’s been blindsided by a wrecking ball and is still shell-shocked from the impact.

“What do you mean ‘dragging this out’? Dragging _what_ out?” He stands up, tossing the pillow to the side and takes a step towards Jisung. “We haven’t – I haven’t… As far as I’m aware, we haven’t had any problems in our relationship. Not unless you’re talking about that one day in the studios and I thought we’d resolved that argument at the time, but if you feel like we haven’t, we can do that right now, I just… I don’t understand, Hannie. Why are you saying this? What brought this on?”

“Nothing brought it on,” Jisung lies, unable to meet his eyes.

He looks out of the window, resolute. He can feel Hyunjin’s gaze trained on his face.

“Well, something must’ve. Why else would you be breaking up with me?”

Unable to stand him speaking of it like that, Jisung snaps his head back in Hyunjin’s direction and lets out a short laugh that sounds cruel, even to his ears. “Let’s be real, Hyunjin, we’re not _breaking up_. We weren’t even actually dating in the first place.”

Hyunjin flinches. “You’re being mean,” he rebukes, stung.

The remark has Jisung wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. Laugh at the audacity of Hyunjin because really, he has to be another level of entitled to stand there and call Jisung mean when Jisung isn’t the one kissing other people behind Hyunjin’s back. And he kinda wants to cry for the same reasons too – especially because even now, even after seeing the kiss happen with his own eyes, he sees Hyunjin’s pain and just wants to take back his words. Wants to hold his hand and crack a couple of jokes to lighten the mood and pretend like they’re a real couple, like Hyunjin means it when he kisses Jisung’s mouth.

Jisung swallows, once again unable to look Hyunjin in the eye. “It’s over, Hyunjin,” he says, quiet but firm. “It is what it is. Just accept it.”

But this is Hyunjin he’s speaking to. Hyunjin doesn’t just accept the things people tell him to simply because they’ve commanded it. If he wants to know something, he doesn’t stop until he has his greedy little hands on that knowledge and right now, he wants to know _why_.

“No, I won’t,” he bites out, his voice rapidly rising to a shout. “Just tell me what’s going on. You can’t just drop a fucking bomb on me like that and expect me to go along with it with no fucking questions asked! If you’re breaking up with me, I deserve to know why.“

“Okay, just _stop,_ Hyunjin! Just stop! Stop calling it that, stop being so fucking difficult – “

“Why should I? That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it, you’re breaking up with me for no reason and – “

“Minho-hyung told me he liked me today, alright?” Jisung yells across him and Hyunjin falls silent immediately, his mouth snapping shut in shock. Now that it’s only him speaking, Jisung’s voice drops from his near-shout into something much more subdued, though Hyunjin hears each word loud and clear. “We met up today and he told me that… That he had a crush on me since his first year of uni and that seeing you and I together made him realise that he can’t expect me to always be around. Does that answer your damn question?”

The words taste like acid on his tongue. Technically, he’s not lying when he says that this is what Minho told him because it was and it is. But knowing that he’s intentionally framed it as though Minho _still_ has a crush on him, has confessed to Jisung with his heart on his sleeve and is waiting to receive an answer back, doesn’t stop him from feeling uncomfortable. From feeling like he’s blundering down the wrong path and needs to stop before things go too far.

No matter how technical the truth may be.

The reaction is instantaneous. Hyunjin’s face contorts with anger, his mouth curling into a snarl.

“What? So Minho-hyung tells you he likes you and you drop me just like that to go running to him? Nothing else matters anymore now that he’s come around to you, is that it?”

It’s not even remotely close to what’s happening, but Jisung doesn’t care anymore. He just wants this conversation to be over.

And maybe a perverse part of him wants Hyunjin to feel as hurt as he did when he saw Hyunjin and Seungmin outside the dance studios earlier. When he realised he has never been the first choice in Hyunjin’s eyes, or even _a_ choice at all.

“It’s why I did this entire thing, isn’t it?” Jisung says, making sure to keep his voice flat and unaffected. He meets Hyunjin’s furious look with an impassive set to his jaw. “What else did you expect?”

Hyunjin laughs, the sound cold with disbelief. “Wow. You really are something, Han Jisung. You know, for someone who’s been in love with Minho-hyung this entire time, you _did_ do a fucking fantastic job of pretending otherwise. You were really committed to that performance of yours, you actually had me going there for a while. Well done, you should be proud of yourself.”

“I’m a good actor,” Jisung snaps.

“Oh trust me, you don’t have to tell me twice.“

“Shut up,” he hisses. “Don’t stand there and act like it was just me playing pretend. At least I was fucking honest about why I agreed to our deal in the first place unlike you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come off it, like you don’t know! You sold me this entire story about wanting to show Seungmin that you’ve moved on so he realises it’s okay for him to date other people. When really, you haven’t moved on from him at all – “

“What are you even talking about?” Hyunjin cries, his arms gesticulating in his outrage. “It was the truth, I wasn’t lying to you!”

Jisung scoffs, baring his teeth. “Like fuck it was. Just admit it, Hyunjin, you did this for the same reason I did. You say you didn’t want to make him jealous, but you did and congratulations, it fucking worked for you too. I haven’t seen the two of this close in god knows how long. You must be thrilled, fucking running around with him like that.”

“What, so now you’re mad that I’m _friends_ with Seungmin?” Hyunjin says incredulously. “He’s my best friend – “

“Yeah, he’s a whole lot more than that apparently,” Jisung jeers. “How long have you been sneaking about with him behind my back? Bet you’ve loved making a fool out of me with him, kissing him in corners while I walked around thinking that you had at least _some_ level of respect for me.”

Hyunjin’s mouth falls open in shock. “Are you accusing me of _cheating_ on you?”

When Jisung doesn’t deny it, the reaction he gets is not what he’s expecting. Instead of getting even angrier or even confessing to his actions, tears spring to Hyunjin’s eyes. The anger on his face transforms into something that’s much rawer, much more wounded. He swallows, his lips pressed shut and glances away as if gathering his strength.

“You know what, Jisung?” he says, his voice wavering with how tightly he says his words. He drags his eyes back to look at him. The first tear spills onto his cheek and he swipes it away impatiently. “If that’s the kind of person you think I am, then fine. Let’s break up. Because you clearly don’t know me very well if that’s something you think I would ever do to you.”

Another tear falls from his right eye. Somewhere in the pits of Jisung’s stomach, guilt begins to churn amongst the rage. Hyunjin gives him one last crushed look and then flees the room.

At first, all Jisung feels is anger.

Anger that Hyunjin lied right to his face and said he wouldn’t kiss Seungmin behind Jisung’s back when Jisung literally saw it happen with his own eyes. Anger that he was so enraged by the thought that Jisung might leave him for someone else, even if he believes that person genuinely likes him back. Anger that Hyunjin wanted him to stick around, as if he’s just another body to make out with when he feels like it. Anger that he’s brought Jisung to this point, has had him rant and rage and break his heart into more pieces as he let go of even the illusion that Hyunjin might return his feelings.

Then comes the hurt again. Jisung doesn’t particularly like this stage because it comes with so much crying and he’s already done enough of that today. But he cries once again, this time out of frustration and exhaustion and just so many different emotions he can’t even begin to unravel right now. He cries because he wishes Hyunjin were here to hold him and then cries because he wished for that and when he’s stopped crying, all he feels is guilty.

Because Hyunjin is crying too.

He can’t get the picture of him out of his mind. The fractured look in his eyes, the way his lower lip trembled like a wave in the sea. How the fight leaked out of his entire body, shoulders slumped and drawn in, his mouth curled down in defeat. He remembers the tears that welled up in Hyunjin’s eyes and how they spilled overboard onto the planes of his cheeks before he swiped them away, not wanting to show Jisung just how much the accusation hurt.

People don’t react like that if they’ve cheated. Especially not someone like Hyunjin, who has his emotions printed onto his face for everyone to read, who bares his sleeve to the world to proudly display the heart that rests upon it. The pain in him was so palpable in that moment that Jisung can’t help but doubt himself.

He remembers what he saw. Remembers Seungmin’s fingers hooked onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, his head tilted up, his mouth pushed forward. He remembers how Hyunjin didn’t push him away.

But he didn’t embrace him either. He didn’t crush Seungmin to his chest or snake an arm around his waist to keep him close. As far as Jisung is aware, he didn’t do anything.

And now Hyunjin is crying in his room three floors below him and Jisung feels so, so guilty. Maybe he’s stupid for feeling this way. Maybe he’s just scrambling to make excuses for the other boy. But Jisung is only nineteen years old and he’s in love with Hyunjin. He might be heartbroken, he might’ve lashed out in the name of it, but he also cares for him. It’s why everything feels as bad as it does.

It’s because he cares that Jisung gets up from his bed, wipes all remnants of his tears from his face, and goes downstairs to Flat 5b.

When Jeno answers the door to him, Jisung clears his throat and asks, “Hey, is Hyunjin here? I can’t reach him on his phone.” He attempts a smile, hoping it comes across as casual.

“Oh yeah,” Jeno says, looking a little troubled. He steps back to let Jisung in and ushers him towards the bedrooms, speaking in a low voice. “He ran through here like thirty minutes ago, I think? He looked really upset, I think he was crying. I texted Jaemin to let you know, but he’s out so he couldn’t pass on the message, I’m sorry.”

“No worries,” Jisung says. “Thanks for trying anyways.”

It’s way more than Jisung would’ve ever expected of him which only makes Jisung feel guiltier. To think that Jeno saw Hyunjin upset and automatically tried to let Jisung know because he thought he could comfort him, only for it to have been Jisung who upset him in the first place… It’s so ironic it’s almost funny, but Jisung isn’t laughing at the joke.

After Jeno disappears into his own room, Jisung knocks thrice on Hyunjin’s door. “Hyunjin, it’s me. Can we talk?”

There’s a small pause and then Hyunjin’s voice floats through the door. It’s muffled, but there’s no mistaking how much it wobbles on its path over. “ _Go away!_ ”

“Hyunjin, please. I want to sort things out.”

“I don’t care! I said to go away, I don’t want to see you.”

“I’m not leaving,” Jisung says firmly. He rests his forehead against the wood of the door and closes his eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me if I have to sit here all day and all night, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t _care_.” He throws the words like knives. “Fucking rot out there if you want, I’m not letting you in.”

All Jisung can do is sigh. He should’ve seen this response coming from a mile away. Hyunjin left his room in tears; of course, he doesn’t want to see Jisung right now. Once again, the little voice doubting his actions snakes through the back of his mind. If Hyunjin is this upset about what Jisung said, then maybe that means…

 _No_.

Jisung shakes the thought out of his head and draws back before he can get carried away. Regardless of what it might mean, he’s come down here for a reason and he doesn’t plan on leaving until he gets to say what he wants to say. He sinks to the ground, his back aligned with Hyunjin’s bedroom door, and scratches his nails into the grooves of the shitty carpet their student accommodation is plastered with. It’s going to be a long wait.

Jisung is right. For the better part of half an hour, he sits there, leaning against Hyunjin’s door while he camps outside of his room. He can hear Hyunjin move around inside every now and then, and occasionally catches the sound of a loud, wet sniff, the kind that tends to accompany an intense round of crying, but Hyunjin makes no move to open the door. So Jisung makes no move to leave, even as he loses all feeling in his legs and backside.

When the door does open, he’s not expecting it. It swings open without warning, there one second and gone the next, and sends Jisung sprawling backwards over the threshold into Hyunjin’s room. He looks up to find Hyunjin glaring down at him, though the hardness isn’t quite all the way there yet. Jisung scrambles up to face him properly.

“You’re still here then,” he says. Or states it, rather. He’s frowning, but something like relief lingers beneath the curl of his mouth.

Jisung shrugs. “I said I would be.”

Hyunjin stares at him for an uncomfortably long moment before he steps back and jerks his head for Jisung to follow him inside. “If we’re going to have this conversation, we might as well do it with some privacy.”

He quickly steps in before Hyunjin can change his mind. The door fastens shut behind him.

Hyunjin doesn’t spare him another glance, instead drifting over to his desk where several notebooks are stacked up in two neat piles. Sat on the side closest to his bed is his laptop, open to show what looks like a Studio Ghibli movie buffering onscreen. He begins to play around with some of the stationary laid out beside it, though his back betrays all of the tension his nonchalant fiddling tries to hide. The guilt strengthens.

“Go on then,” Hyunjin says after a moment. His voice is indifferent in a way that suggests he is not quite as unperturbed as he wants to seem. “Say whatever it is you wanted to say.”

Jisung looks at the back that faces him with a note of regret. How did they get to this point? He knows he was the one who started the argument upstairs, but seeing the effects carried into this room really drives in what happened.

“Look,” he begins quietly. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for how I spoke to you earlier. It was really rude of me and I said some pretty hurtful things and that… That wasn’t right of me. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“No,” Hyunjin agrees, “you shouldn’t have.” He turns to look at Jisung, his chin lifted in a challenge. “So why did you?”

“I don’t know,” Jisung whispers.

But he does know. He wanted to hurt Hyunjin like he was hurt earlier. He wanted someone else to be as lost and as confused as him. He wanted misery in his company and he was prepared to drag Hyunjin down himself to get it.

It’s not a nice thing to admit whether it’s to himself or to someone else. Jisung wraps his arms around his own body as if it’ll hide him from the spike of self-hatred that it brings.

The tears return to Hyunjin’s eyes, turning them glossy like they were the other night. Only this time, Hyunjin isn’t smiling brightly at him while buzzed from whatever alcoholic concoctions he downed like water. He’s nothing but wounded.

“Well, whatever it was, it was really mean of you. I don’t know why you wanted to hurt me today, but congratulations, you got your wish. Now leave me alone and go off with Minho-hyung or whatever it is you want to do. You were so eager to leave me for him before. Don’t let me stop you now.”

“I’m not going to date Minho-hyung,” says Jisung.

Hyunjin scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m not,” he insists. Even though it’s just going to paint him in a worse light for lying about something that involves someone else’s feelings, he wants to clear the air. Already, he’s grown tired of fighting with Hyunjin. He just wants Hyunjin to know the truth and then he wants to go back to his bed where he can try to convince himself that he’s made the right decision. “Look, I know that I… I _implied_ some things earlier, but Minho-hyung doesn’t actually like me like that. I mean, to be fair, he _did_ tell me he used to have a crush on me and that us dating did make him jealous when he first heard about it, but it’s not like that anymore. I just made it sound that way.”

Perturbed, Hyunjin can only furrow his eyebrows in an angry line. “Why the fuck would you do that?” he demands.

Jisung flinches. He remembers running to the performance arts building, remembers Seungmin’s words. Remembers his question and how Hyunjin never answered it.

“Does it matter?” he asks with a humourless laugh.

“Yes? Of course, it does, why wouldn’t it?”

Panic flooding his senses, Jisung turns away from him, reaching for the door. He can’t do this right now. He can’t stand here and bare his soul to Hyunjin when he knows the older boy doesn’t feel the same way, can’t confess to things he’s barely had a chance to digest himself. He doesn’t want to humiliate himself with the truth, but he’s also too tired to lie, too sick of all of these emotions that have been plaguing him today and he just wants to _go._

“Look, I just came here to apologise to you. I’ve already done that and you’ve heard it so I’m going to go now – “

“Han Jisung, I swear to God,” Hyunjin says, striding over to shove the door shut. He keeps his hand pressed against the wood, leaning all his strength into the action while he looks down at Jisung, eyes seeking his even as Jisung’s skitter away. “Don’t tell me you came down here and sat outside my room for the past twenty minutes just to leave before you actually tell me anything. Why did you say those things upstairs? Why did you even break up with me at all?”

Ignoring him, Jisung tries to yank open the door, only to have Hyunjin move until he’s pressed against it. His body is wedged between Jisung’s side and the wood, so close that Jisung’s head starts to spin. Even now, all he wants to do is just reach for his hand or fall into his chest to seek comfort.

“Hyunjin,” he says, trying to keep calm. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“Hyunjin, for fuck’s sake!” he cries. Tears pool in his eyes once again and Jisung blinks them away with an annoyed huff, gritting his teeth. He needs to stop fucking _crying_. “Just let me go. Let me leave with some fucking dignity.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he insists. “Not until you tell me why.”

The words escape him in a shout before he can stop them. “Because I’m fucking in love with you, that’s why! Is that what you wanted to hear? I’m in love with you and I can’t stay in a relationship with you knowing that it’s fake and you’re in love with someone else.”

He starts to cry again. Spitting out a curse, he spins away from Hyunjin and his shock, swiping at his face furiously. He moves further into the room, as if it’ll give him some privacy from the eyes that are burning a hole into his back.

Hyunjin whispers, “Y-You’re in love with me?”

Part of Jisung wishes he could deny it. Could turn back time to before he said anything, perhaps even before he called things off and just let things run their natural course. But the larger part of him, the one that’s sick of all these tears and came downstairs to see Hyunjin, is tired of all of this already. He’s too exhausted to lie, to save face and play it off as a joke.

He turns back around to face Hyunjin and nods. “Yeah. I am.”

“So then why would you end things?” he asks, confused. He takes a step forward as if he’s going to reach for him, but stops when Jisung takes a step back. “Why would you call things off?”

If he’s going to admit this much, Jisung figures he might as well confess to everything.

“Because earlier today I went to the dance studios to tell you that I love you and I walked in on your conversation with Seungmin,” he says. Hyunjin’s eyes grow wide and he starts, jerking forward once more. “I heard him ask you if you love me and you said nothing. And then he kissed you and you did nothing.”

“Hannie, it wasn’t like that,” he says, shaking his head frantically. “It wasn’t what you think it is, I promise, just please don’t – “

“I know what I saw.”

Panic blooms in Hyunjin’s eyes as he continues to shake his head. “No, I know what it looked like, but I didn’t – I didn’t do nothing, okay? It was just – I was just – “

“It’s okay, Hyunjin,” Jisung cuts across him with a calmness he didn’t realise he possessed. He attempts a smile. “I understand. You and Seungmin, you’re… you’re something else. I get it.”

And really when it comes down to the heart of it, Jisung _does_ get it. That’s why he’s been so upset by all of this, so affected by what he saw.

Ever since they were little, it has always been Hyunjin and Seungmin. They’ve been attached at the hip for so long that Hyunjin will probably never be able to let Seungmin go. He loves him and he’ll always love him. A few months with Jisung won’t change that.

“It’s okay,” Jisung repeats and maybe if he says it enough times, he’ll believe it. He tries another smile and hopes it isn’t as pathetic as it feels. “The history you have with Seungmin is long and for the most part, it’s really happy. It makes sense that you guys wouldn’t be able to stay away from each other for that long. And I mean, it’s Seungmin, right?” Jisung laughs a little, the sound as hollow as the trunk of a tree. “He’s pretty much perfect. He’s smart and hardworking and polite and – and everyone loves him. I can see why you’d prefer him.”

The corners of his eyes feel wet again. He wipes at them, looking down at his shoes to avoid Hyunjin’s pity. He’s still shaking his head a few feet in front of him and whispering his name with that stricken look, but Jisung pays it no mind. He just manages a shaky, deprecating laugh and focuses his attention on a biscuit crumb on the floor.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t choose me either. I know I can be a difficult person to be around. I… I stay in my room all day and I stress out over the smallest situations and – and I’m not someone you can drag out on loads of dates all week. And I’m loud as fuck and annoying and I argue with you over such stupid crap sometimes and can get really mean and I just – I get it. I _get_ it, alright? I’m hard to fall in love with and if I were you, I wouldn’t do it either. So it’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I already understand.” He sniffs, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Before him, Hyunjin whispers, “Hannie, that’s not – that’s not _true_ , okay?” but Jisung isn’t listening.

He lifts his head and turns away, moving past him towards the door. “I should go, I’ve already said too much…”

“ _No!”_ Hyunjin cries, leaping forward to latch his fingers around Jisung’s wrist. He’s frantic, his breathing rapid and unsteady. “You can’t go, not when you’ve said all those things and have everything all wrong and think I did nothing. Please, Hannie, you can’t go, you need to stay and you need to listen to me and – and – “ His eyes swivel around in desperation as he grows more frenzied, trying to grasp for words that won't come to him. “You need to stay and sort things out and – and… And I’ve already loaded a Studio Ghibli movie up on my laptop so you can’t just _leave,_ not when there’s a Studio Ghibli movie on the table. You can’t walk out on me now.”

He starts to cry in earnest, tears zipping down his face. Jisung stares at him in bewilderment, his body half-turned towards the door.

“I really don’t think this is the time for a Studio Ghibli movie,” he says weakly.

Hyunjin only seems to cry harder at this. “Why not? It’s our thing. You can’t just walk out on our thing, it’s not right.”

Jisung doesn’t even know how to reply to that one. All he can do is whisper Hyunjin’s name. It seems to work because Hyunjin makes a conscious effort to stem his tears and wipes them from his face with his free hand. When they’re gone, he offers Jisung a tremulous smile.

“You were wrong,” he says quietly. “You’re not any of those things you said you are. I mean yeah, you can get a little loud sometimes and we bicker over random things, but the rest of it isn’t true. You’re not annoying or mean or difficult to be around, and you’re not hard to fall in love with. It’s actually embarrassingly easy.”

He lets out a watery laugh. Jisung can only watch him with wide eyes.

“It’s like all my life, you’ve been here hanging around and you’ve just been another friend I’ve had since childhood. The only thing that set you apart was the fact that I still hated your guts either way. But then we started to fake-date and all of it just… changed. Suddenly, you weren’t Han Jisung, the guy who annoyed the shit out of me just by breathing; you were Hannie. My Hannie. And I’m so far gone for you, it’s not even funny. I’m pretty sure I even fell for you way before you fell for me.”

Jisung can hardly breathe, let alone comprehend what he’s hearing. He stares at Hyunjin in disbelief, his mouth slackened to an unattractive angle. He can’t bring himself to care about that either. He just can’t. That’s all.

“You – You can’t be,” he manages. “You and Seungmin – “

“I know what you think you heard,” he says, “but you have the wrong idea. I know I didn’t say anything when Seungmin asked me if I think I’m in love with you, but it wasn’t because the answer was no. It was more out of shock than anything. I’d genuinely thought Seungmin had moved on from me. There was nothing to suggest he hadn’t. And then out of nowhere, he was saying and doing all of these things and asking me that question and it was like sensory overload. I didn’t know what to think, never mind how to react.”

“And the kiss?”

“I didn’t kiss him back,” Hyunjin promises. He looks him dead in the eye and there is nothing but honesty there. “I should’ve pushed him off sooner, but I was in shock. I didn’t think he’d do that. He’s not… he’s not usually that cruel.”

“Oh,” Jisung says.

He tries to fit this reason in with the narrative that exists in his head. It doesn’t match and it shouldn’t, not when Hyunjin is out here saying that he’s in love with Jisung and Jisung has convinced himself otherwise. But he’s had too much information thrown at him today to be able to accept that off the cuff, has experienced all sorts of emotions and twists and turns, and he just can’t bring himself to believe it. Not yet.

“I’m going to need a minute to take all this in,” he admits.

Hyunjin laughs and this time, it’s much closer to his usual high-pitched peel of amusement. He rubs a circle into Jisung’s wrist with his thumb and then slides his fingers down until he’s holding Jisung’s hand. It hasn’t even been that long since they last did this, less than twenty four hours in fact, but the comfort it brings Jisung is similar to the feeling people get when coming home after a long trip. Like despite where they might go, this is where they’re supposed to be in the end.

Jisung squeezes Hyunjin’s hand. He might not be able to say everything he wants to in words, but this will do for now.

“You wanna watch the movie with me while you wrap your head around my confession?” Hyunjin asks, jerking his head towards his laptop. “Please say yes or I genuinely think I’m going to cry again.”

A grin slowly spreads across Jisung’s face. “Well, I can’t exactly walk out on the offer when it’s a Studio Ghibli movie now, can I?”

Hyunjin beams at him and the pain in Jisung’s chest starts to ease up.

When Jisung wakes up the next morning, it’s a long process. He leaves his dreams slowly, so gradually that each feature of the world he’s cooked up seeps away through the cracks in his memory in the time it takes for him to regain consciousness. Even then, he only becomes aware of the most basic sensations in his little corner of the world. The soft cotton of the duvet cover tucked under his chin, the glare of sunlight filtering through his eyelids to stain his world a faint red. A hand trailing up and down the length of his spine while the faint hum of a melody settles in his eardrums. The smell of berries and beneath that, the barely perceptible tang of sweat. An ankle pressed against his own, the first calls of hunger stirring awake in the pits of his stomach.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees are the motivational posters Hyunjin has pinned to the wall above his desk. Jisung blinks, his eyelids heavy with the ache of the aftermath of a good, deep sleep, and then lets them fall shut again, nuzzling the pillow pressed to his cheek. It smells like Hyunjin.

The hand that has been travelling up and down his back pauses, as does the humming.

“Hannie,” Hyunjin whispers. “Are you awake?”

He makes an unintelligible noise in confirmation.

“Want to get pancakes together at that comic book café I once showed you? They offer them all day.”

Jisung tries his best to recall any details of this café, but it’s still incredibly early in the morning and his brain is fuzzy at the edges. “Is this the one with the sleeping pods?” he mumbles when he finally manages to capture what he thinks is one of the more important facts.

Hyunjin laughs, the sound rough from sleep. “Yeah, Lazy Bones, it is. You can take your nap after we’ve had our pancakes.”

“As long as I get my nap, I don’t really care.”

He laughs again and then shuffles closer. Jisung hears the rustle of the duvet cover as it crinkles under his body, feels Hyunjin’s fingers glide across his back to tighten slightly around the curve of his waist. A small kiss lands on the exposed part of his neck, just behind his left ear. It sends a shiver through him.

A smile springs to his lips. Not bothering to hide it, Jisung moves around a bit until he’s lying on the side that faces Hyunjin. He opens his eyes to find the other boy already gazing at him, a wondrous look in his eyes that Jisung has never been the subject of before.

“Good morning,” Jisung says quietly.

Hyunjin lifts his hand to fit it against the side of Jisung’s face, his thumb brushing along the shell of his ear.

“Morning,” he says and then darts forward to press another small kiss on Jisung, this time directly on his mouth. He pulls back with a small grimace. “Not to ruin the moment or anything, but your morning breath smells awful today.”

He laughs. “Shut the fuck up,” he advises, pushing forward to reunite their lips.

Hyunjin makes a noise of protest, his complaints about their stale breaths falling into Jisung’s mouth where they quickly dissipate and then fall away. It’s all an act really. Within moments, he responds to the kiss with nothing but enthusiastic consent, pulling Jisung closer to him until he’s half-draped on top of his body. Here, he keeps Jisung fixed in place, hands on either side of his face as their lips slide together.

Despite their eagerness, the kiss isn’t driven by urgency. It feels like they have all the time in the world to just lie in bed together, making out in between the covers like the students they are. No priorities or responsibilities to think about, no outside world that exists beyond this room. Just the two of them together like this.

When they part, it’s thanks to the sound of Jisung’s stomach growling. Their lips break apart in surprise, eyes snapping open to meet each other’s baffled blinks, and then they collapse into a round of laughter.

“Well, that’s our cue to get up then,” says Jisung, rolling off Hyunjin.

For someone who was so reluctant to kiss him earlier, Hyunjin seems very disappointed by this turn of events. He reaches out a hand to snag Jisung’s, trying to pull him back into bed, but Jisung’s bladder has woken up along with the rest of him and he needs the bathroom right now. The time for lazing around is over.

Getting ready together that morning is strange in the sense that the atmosphere is such a far cry from the dark cloud that descended upon them the previous afternoon. It’s like falling asleep has wiped everything clean like a slate: no more frayed nerves, no more yelling, no more goddamn tears. Yesterday was a rollercoaster of emotions, but all Jisung feels today is a persistent calm.

They brush their teeth together in a sugary-sweet display of domesticity, their elbows knocking into each other as they make silly faces at their reflections in Hyunjin’s bathroom mirror. Of course, that quickly comes to an end when Hyunjin accidentally sucks in a mouthful of foam and ends up coughing so hard his eyes stream with water. Jisung can’t help the roar of laughter that bursts out of him as he pats Hyunjin’s back in comfort.

“You’re evil,” he gasps. “I’m dying and all you can do is laugh?”

Jisung grins. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Well, that just doesn’t sound right to me.”

Instead of making the short thirty second trek back to his own flat, Jisung ends up borrowing Hyunjin’s clothes for the day when they get dressed. He chooses to stick to his own pair of jeans though since the legs on Hyunjin’s ones are about as long as the Han River. When he fastens the zip to a coat he’s borrowed, Hyunjin comes over to adjust the collar and then kisses the tip of his nose.

“You look cute,” he says. “I like seeing you in my clothes.”

Jisung blushes. “Um, okay?” he replies a little uncertainly.

Oh God, how the fuck is he meant to react to a sincere compliment from a sober Hwang Hyunjin? Where’s the bloody manual for this kind of thing? He knows they’ve been extra soft with each other this morning, even for them, but now that Hyunjin’s breaking out the compliments, Jisung suddenly feels a smidgeon out of his depth.

Hyunjin doesn’t seem to feel the same. All he does is answer Jisung with a smile and then button up his own parka. He then holds out his hand, prompting Jisung to take it. This he can do without second thought and does so gladly. As always, Hyunjin’s hand is cold from poor circulation, but Jisung kinda likes it now. He tends to run really hot so it’s almost like they’re balancing each other out.

Fucking hell, that sounds so sappy, even to his own internal narration. What has he _become?_

The walk to the café isn’t long. Even if they don’t talk much, both content to just soak in the crunch of the February air, the silence is a companiable one. The streets are busy with students on their way to class and if he were a more responsible student, the sight would worry Jisung, especially because it is only when he sees some of his peers that he remembers that he’s slept through his first lecture of the new semester. As it is, he doesn’t really care. He just wants to eat some pancakes.

Some ten minutes later, after they’ve reeled off their orders for the bubbly-looking waitress who comes over to serve them, Hyunjin puts his phone down in a serious enough manner that Jisung follows suit, humming questioningly.

“So,” Hyunjin says after a long moment of gearing himself up to speak, “I guess we should talk about yesterday.”

A seed of discomfort plants into the garden in Jisung’s stomach, but he nods in agreement all the same. There’s no point in running away from this conversation. What happened yesterday was… well, a lot. And it needs to be unpacked.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he admits, scratching behind his ear.

Hyunjin looks just as uncertain as him as he plays with the rings on his fingers. Still, he takes the lead, licking his lips and saying, “Well, uh… Actually, I think there’s a lot to cover and talk about, but – I think a good place to start would be making sure we’re on the same page. Like I know we kinda admitted to our feelings yesterday, but we were like – a little hysterical when we did it? So I think we should settle what we are once and for all. Just so everything’s clear.”

The suggestion makes sense. They’ve spent so long skirting around the issue of what they are that it needs to be addressed properly before they can go anywhere else.

Knowing that doesn’t stop Jisung from feeling nervous, however. He didn’t even mean to confess to his feelings yesterday; it burst out of him like a whip, crackling with fury, rather than the sincerity that the moment calls for. But he doesn’t know if he _can_ do it the way he’s supposed to. Now that he’s not running hot with adrenaline, it seems like such a big step to take.

“Um…”

“I’m in love with you,” Hyunjin blurts out, then clamps a hand over his mouth in shock. His cheeks warm beneath the gaps of his fingers and he stutters out, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. It just… kinda came out before I could control it.”

Jisung laughs and just like that, the nerves subside. Confessing no longer seems like an impossible task. All he feels like is a little schoolboy sitting opposite his crush from class, ready to shyly push a carton of milk at the other boy to convey his feelings.

“It’s fine,” he says, grinning wide. “I’m in love with you too.”

Hyunjin’s face lights up at the words. And oh God, the way he looks so utterly radiant in that moment... Every time Jisung thinks he can’t get more beautiful, he turns around and proves Jisung wrong.

_Beautiful._

It’s a word he’s tried to avoid when thinking of Hyunjin, too wary of straying close to anything that might make him confront his feelings for the other boy. But there’s no use in denying it anymore. Hyunjin is beautiful. Jisung has thought it for some time now.

“I want to date you,” Hyunjin says and the hand that is pushed against his mouth dances over to play with Jisung’s fingers. “For real, I mean. If I’m being honest with you, I lowkey thought of you as my boyfriend for real already which you can probably tell from my reaction to breaking up yesterday – “ He laughs, as if the memory of how upset he was at Jisung cutting things off is a little inside joke. “But since we’re having this conversation, I want to make it clear that that’s what I want.”

“Me too,” Jisung says. The words come out softer than he intends, mumbled just loudly enough for Hyunjin to catch, and he drops his eyes to their entwined hands. “I want to be your boyfriend for real.”

“Oh, thank God. If you’d said no, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

He snickers, peeking up to meet Hyunjin’s exaggerated display of relief. “How could I deny you the amazing presence of Han Jisung? I’m not _that_ cruel.”

“That’s so very kind of you,” says Hyunjin, nodding seriously.

The word brings back the memory of Hyunjin after the party at BamBam’s house: the way he nattered on about how kind Jisung was and then promptly walked into the doorframe. He can’t help the grin that tugs on his lips at the image of Hyunjin’s stupefied look and how quickly he shrugged off the impact.

Cute. Hwang Hyunjin is cute. Now that Jisung has stopped running away from his feelings, he can admit that too.

Case in point: Hyunjin unlocks his phone with his free hand and looks down at the webpage it’s revealed, his features set studiously.

“I woke up really early today,” he says. “I think I was subconsciously scared I’d wake up and you’d be gone or something, I don’t know. Anyways, that’s not important. What’s important is that I thought I’d be productive and kind of look into what went wrong with our relationship the first time around. You know, everything we can improve on so that we don’t mess up badly on our second go. And – uh, this probably doesn’t come as a surprise to you, but it pretty much all boils down to communication. Or our – well, our complete lack of it to be honest.

“You know, we’ve gone through such a drastic change in our relationship over the past few months. We started uni with our weird little hatred-slash-childhood-friends thing. And every time things changed between us, we just never addressed it. I think the only time we did was back when we agreed to be proper friends, but aside from that… There was nothing. And it’s not only one person’s fault, we both did it, so I think that’s something we need to work on.”

He pauses to let Jisung reply. All Jisung can do is stare at him, unable to speak for a few seconds.

Something swells inside of him like a hot air balloon, lifting him towards the sky above. He feels a huge wave of love rise within him for Hyunjin, at the sight of him earnestly stumbling his way through his explanation, at the mental picture of how he must’ve looked this morning while he scrolled through the internet to seek out advice for their relationship. While Jisung was dead to the world next to him, Hyunjin was already trying to do his best by them and holy shit, Jisung loves him, he loves him so much.

What ends up leaving his mouth is, “You’re so cute, what the fuck.”

Hyunjin blinks, startled, and then the tips of his ears burn red. “Uh… thanks. But I don’t think this is the right moment for compliments.”

“Right,” Jisung says, turning a little red himself.

He coughs hastily and tries to rearrange his thoughts into something functional. He can’t help it, alright? All he can think about right now is how sweet Hyunjin is and how Jisung has really lucked out with him. How could he have ever thought otherwise? God, he might be sappy as fuck right now, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“I agree with you about the whole communication thing. Now that you mention it, I think it’s something we both need to be better at. I don’t know about you, but personally for me, it was like – I don’t know, things would happen, and I would just… try not to freak myself out by thinking about it too much. I didn’t want to admit that I was falling for you, so I would just try not to think about it at all. I would just go along with whatever was happening in our relationship without questioning it because it seemed easier for me. Especially since you seemed to treat what was happening like it was normal so I figured that I should too. Does that make sense?”

Hyunjin makes a face. “Yeah, it does. It’s funny though, I only did all of that because I’m pretty much the exact opposite to you. I can’t compartmentalise my thoughts like that, I overthink way too much. When I realised I liked holding your hand too much for it to be platonic, I overthought that. I also overthought our first kiss, the one that was an accident, and also our second kiss in Minho’s room. Pretty much everything that happened with us, to be honest. But I ended up overthinking so much that I kinda figured I was overreacting. I thought that if I just acted normal, things would be okay, and since you went along with it, I guess I just thought it worked out well that way.”

“Oh. That – that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

It also just proves to Jisung that they’re both dumb as shit.

Instead of just doing the easy thing and discussing their feelings or what they were doing, the two of them merely silently acknowledged that their relationship was evolving without ever pausing to consider why that was. Things would’ve been so much simpler if they just _talked_. God knows they can run their mouths like there’s no tomorrow about the most random things; you’d think they’d have spared a moment or two for something as serious as their relationship.

Of course, it’s a lot easier to look back at things in hindsight. A different perspective does a funny job of realigning events of the past, giving them a new and truer meaning. Hell, less than twenty four hours ago, Jisung was convinced that Hyunjin was in love with Seungmin! And now look at where they are. 

So as much as Jisung might roll his eyes now and wish they just _said_ something about their developing feelings for each other, he also knows there was no way they would’ve done that when they were in the thick of it. That’s just not the way either of them work.

Jisung might be able to create pretty lyrics for his songs, might conjure up stories and images to lay out in triplets and iambic pentameter when it comes to his music. But he tends to keep those words locked up in his head whenever it’s about his own feelings. His tongue is not quite so ready to part with them when his own happiness is at stake and the uncertainty of how a confession will be received is too much to have him deliver one.

When it comes to love, he doesn’t express it in what he says. It lingers in his actions instead. In the fingers he presses between another’s, in the hugs he forces upon them, in the shape of the heart his mouth forms when he smiles at their antics. It can be felt in the hook of his arm around a waist while he’s fast asleep or tasted in the water he brings to flush out the alcohol from his partner’s system before they can make a mistake they might regret. It’s said in a language that exists beyond the capabilities of the human tongue.

He thinks it might be the same for Hyunjin too.

The Hyunjin who kissed him on the cheek in front of his mother and their friends, who left a party to protect Jisung on the walk back home, who cooked him a bowl of oatmeal with a smile made from fruit. The Hyunjin who likes seeing him in his clothes and laid Jisung out on his bed to murmur how pretty he was against his flushed skin – but also the Hyunjin who respects his boundaries and never makes him feel lesser for getting lost in his head sometimes. The Hyunjin who waited for him in the rain with a slice of cheesecake and hunted down the location of the café they’re in just because he knows Jisung will enjoy his time here.

There is a world of differences between them, but in moments of realisation like this, Jisung knows why they work so well together.

He could write a dozen songs with all of the words circling his head right now, but all he needs to say is, “I love you so much, you know that right? And I know that things might not always be so easy with us in the future, but I promise I’ll do my best to do right by you. I’ll talk even when I don’t want to and make sure that I put as much effort into us as you already are. I… I want us to work out. And I really think we can if we just try.”

Hyunjin looks at him with that same wondrous look from earlier in the morning. He can put a label on it now, knows the exact same expression is in his eyes when he’s gazing at Hyunjin.

“I think so too,” he says, indulging in a shy smile.

And when it comes down to it, that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?

They don’t discuss Seungmin until after they’ve ate their pancakes. Jisung doesn’t know whether he should be impressed or concerned by how many they manage to order and polish off, but he settles for the former for now. Afterwards, they ride out the sugar crash in one of the sleeping pods – which is not so much a pod as a spacious little nook built into the wall, but it’s comfortable and Hyunjin’s arm is even more so.

“I’ve lost all feeling in it,” he cries, wiggling his fingers in vain. “Your head’s so fucking heavy, Hannie, why are you making me suffer through this?”

Jisung merely slings his leg over Hyunjin’s hip and wriggles closer. “Too bad. Being my boyfriend means being my pillow as and when I demand it. This is what you signed up for, Hyunjin. Get used to it.”

 _Boyfriend_. It’s a term they’ve used for each other for the past four months, but now it holds new weight. It’s something tangible that settles in Jisung’s mouth like it belongs there and has Hyunjin smiling whenever he hears it.

“What happened with Seungmin yesterday after I ran off?” Jisung finally takes the plunge and brings the topic up. He busies himself with tracing the pattern of the logo on Hyunjin’s hoodie as he waits for the answer. “You mentioned a little bit yesterday, but I honestly can’t remember what you said. All I remember is a bunch of shouting and crying.”

It all seems so much more dramatic in the light of a fresh day. Jisung recalls how many tears he shed yesterday with a wince. Jesus Christ, he could’ve watered the Sahara twice over with how much he cried.

“Oh right,” says Hyunjin, a grimace audible in just those two words. When Jisung glances up, he sees that very grimace contorting Hyunjin’s face in an almost comical manner and lets out a soft snort of amusement.

“It… Well, after I finally snapped out of my shock at the fact that he’d actually kissed me, I basically told him to never try something like that again and to accept the fact that we’re over. I got pretty angry actually. I yelled a lot about how he shouldn’t have done that because I’m dating you and how I _do_ actually love you and how he should be ashamed of himself for kissing me when he’s meant to be our friend. Not just mine, but yours too.”

Jisung blinks, the realisation startling him. Over the past day, he’s been so caught up in viewing the kiss as an act of transgression against him by Hyunjin and _only_ Hyunjin. It makes sense, he was heartbroken after all. He narrowed down the main source of his pain and then pinpointed the complete weight of the blame on Hyunjin.

But Seungmin is Jisung’s friend too. He has been since they were little children who were barely able to spell out their own name. He’s not just Hyunjin’s ex-boyfriend, he’s someone who’s also meant to care for Jisung.

“Oh,” he says stupidly.

“I still don’t understand why he would do it,” Hyunjin bursts out in frustration. His hold on Jisung tightens in his anger, but quickly relaxes into a loose embrace when he realises. “It just – it makes no sense. And now I don’t know what to do because I thought we were going to be best friends again and that everything would go back to normal, but I can’t act normally around him when there’s a chance he could pull another move like this again. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us and I just – I wish he hadn’t said anything.” He pinches his nose in an effort to stave off any tears. “I wish he’d just let us go back to how we used to be.”

Jisung squeezes him into a hug. “I know,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry that this has happened.”

“I’m just… I don’t know. I know that the right thing to do would be to cut him off entirely, but… he really was my best friend for as long as I can remember. Even when I’m pissed off at him, I can’t help but feel attached. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, of course it does. You can’t really control your feelings with logic, Hyunjinnie. Even if you know you should feel one thing, you might feel another. I get why you’d feel so conflicted.”

“I’m not going to date him,” Hyunjin presses, wanting to make that absolutely clear. “I don’t feel anything romantic for him. I’d never do that to you.”

Jisung laughs. “I know that.” He pulls away from Hyunjin a little to prop himself up on an elbow so he can properly peer down at him without having to strain his neck. “I know I accused you of it yesterday, but that was before we talked everything out properly. I was so caught up in how hurt I was after what I’d seen that I didn’t want to hear what you had to say, I just wanted to lash out. But now that I know everything, it’s not like that anymore. I trust you, Hyunjinnie. And as for the Seungmin situation… I get it. I get why you feel confused, why you’re still attached. I’m not mad about that, I promise.”

Hyunjin looks up at him intently, his eyes blazing. “I just want to do right by you,” he says.

He drops a kiss to his mouth. “I know.”

They’ll have time to figure out how to deal with the whole Seungmin situation later. Truth be told, Jisung is conflicted too. On the one hand, he’s angry about what Seungmin did yesterday. Yes, the sudden kiss was a cruel thing to do, but his words were even crueller. The way he dismissed even the possibility that Hyunjin might genuinely care for Jisung, the way he bulldozed over their relationship just because he regretted his decision to cut things off with Hyunjin last year. When Jisung thinks about it, he’s actually pretty fucking livid about that.

On the other hand, however, he can empathise with Hyunjin. He knows that if he was in the same position, he wouldn’t have an easy time deciding on how to move on from here either.

Say that it was him and Minho in that position: that, instead of confessing to an old crush yesterday, Minho reached across the booth to press a kiss against Jisung’s mouth and tell him he loves him. He doesn’t think he’d be able to cut him off entirely afterwards. Sure, he’d push Minho away and be frank with him about how what he did was completely out of line. He’d probably pull back from their friendship too, at least enough to get the message across that they would only ever be friends and nothing more than that.

But he doesn’t think he is capable of not loving Minho. Of letting him go and never looking back, even if it’s what someone else in his position would do.

So he does understand what Hyunjin is feeling, at least to some extent. And he knows that whatever happens with Seungmin is a decision that Hyunjin has to come to by himself. But they’ll have time to worry about that later. Right now, all he wants to do is lie in his boyfriend’s arms and skip out on the rest of their lectures for the day.

“I feel like this has the potential to go very wrong,” Jisung says.

Jeongin is much less bothered by such a possibility. “Well, it’s too late to back out now. I’m already comfortable.”

Here’s the scene and situation. It is a Thursday afternoon – to be more precise, the digital clock on Jisung’s phone places the time at exactly 16:47, no wait 16:48. The sky is darkening rapidly as night falls upon the city, but the two of them pay it no mind as they fold themselves onto a woven swing in the local park just a few streets away from Jeongin’s house. Both of them have each grabbed a hamburger from the van that has parked outside the entrance to the park for as long as their memory stretches back. A portion of chips rests precariously on the junction where their knees meet.

It’s only a few days into the semester, but Jisung already has a bunch of work to get done for uni. It’s pretty much entirely his fault since he skipped all of his classes on Monday and needs to catch up on what he missed. Still, when Jeongin called him asking if he was free to come around since it’s been a while, Jisung was booking a train ticket before they even hung up the call.

It really _has_ been a while since he saw Jeongin. The younger has been so caught up in knuckling down for his CSAT and university entrance exams that he’s barely had time to reach out to them. Jisung has missed the little brat.

“Thanks for coming down by the way,” says Jeongin as if he’s kept track of where Jisung’s thoughts have wandered off to. “I know it was a bit last-minute.”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he says with a shrug. He pinches Jeongin’s cheek and pairs it with an obnoxious coo. When Jeongin swipes him away with a disgruntled scowl, he breaks out into a laugh. “Ahh Innie, you’re so cute. How can hyung resist hanging out with you? I know you’ve missed me just as much as I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he huffs, though his cheeks betray him.

“Well then. That shit hurted. But because it’s you, I’ll let it slide; I could never stay mad at you.”

Jeongin lets out a harsh scoff of laughter. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he mutters, just quietly enough that Jisung isn’t sure whether it’s intended for his ears.

Deciding to assume that it wasn’t, he tries to lighten the mood by dramatically unveiling his hamburger and preparing to scoff it down. Honestly speaking, there’s nothing quite as nice as the hamburgers from the van outside the park. Food chains never manage to get the greasiness down as well as they should and their portions are nowhere near as generous, that’s for sure. He makes sure to announce all of this in his pompous presenter voice, holding the prized possession aloft in the air in a similar manner to Rafiki with baby Simba. When Jeongin finally gives into the giggles tugging at his mouth, Jisung grins and takes his first bite.

“By the way,” he says, his mouth still flooded with ham and seeded bap and a shot of the Coke he’s just taken a sip of, “how’s school like? Are the teachers still working you like mad?”

“When are they not?” Jeongin says gloomily. He casts a vacant stare at his food. “I’m sick and tired of it already. I just want summer to come.”

“You and me both, man. School just never lets up for some reason. I personally think that it’s just inhumane. Oh yeah, how are your maths classes going? I swear I saw you complain about it in the group chat the other day.”

“They’re… going,” he says with a pained smile. He takes a small bite of his hamburger and wipes the corner of his mouth where a spot of grease lingers. “Let’s not talk about maths, I hate it too much for that. Why don’t you tell me about uni, what are things like there? Ooh, what was BamBam’s party like, it looked really fun from what I saw on Snapchat. I can’t believe I’m never gonna get to go to one, that’s so unfair.”

“I mean I’m not the biggest fan of parties, but it was kinda cool,” Jisung replies with a small shrug. He tries to remember something from that night that doesn’t involve Hyunjin pressed up against his back or his mouth at the waistband of Jisung’s jeans. “There was… a lot of neon.”

“I’m sure there was,” Jeongin says, and then promptly bursts into tears.

Jisung can only stare, horrified. “Innie?”

“I’m sorry,” he wails, wiping at his face with two greasy hands.

Wincing, Jisung fumbles for one of crumpled napkins their food was handed over with and leans over to dab at Jeongin’s face. Chips scatter everywhere as his elbow knocks into the container on their knees, but neither of them pays it any mind. Jisung is too concerned with what the hell has come over Jeongin to mourn the loss of food and he’s not sure whether Jeongin can even see anything through his tears.

“It’s just a party,” Jisung tries. “To be honest with you, it wasn’t even that good, you didn’t miss out on much.”

“I don’t care about the stupid party,” he sobs.

Jisung is _so_ confused. “Then why are you crying? Did something happen at school today?”

“No,” Jeongin scoffs. He pulls away from Jisung’s mothering, taking the napkin into his own hands, and lets out a long sniffle. “I’m sorry, it’s just – You’re so nice. And I’m not.”

Jisung is no less confused.

“What are you on about? Yeah you are nice, of course you are. Seriously, did someone say something to you at school? I’ll fucking beat them up, I swear to God, just point me the right way.”

“No, no one’s said anything. And you’re wrong, I’m not nice – or at least, I haven’t been that nice to you recently. It’s just… Look, I need to tell you something and it’s not going to be easy to hear it, but you deserve to know. I’m not going to hide something so big from you, it wouldn’t be – it wouldn’t be right.”

His words don’t clear anything up. If anything, Jisung just plunges further into a vat of bemusement, only this time it’s tinged with apprehension. His thoughts race as he tries to figure out just what could have Jeongin so rattled that he’d burst into tears over some junk food while they sat on a swing in a park. Sensing that Jeongin needs time to gather himself, however, Jisung stays quiet for once and decides to wait for the younger to speak first.

When he finally does, it’s delivered without any sugar coating. “Seungmin kissed Hyunjin.”

Jisung blinks. That’s the last thing he expected Jeongin to say. “You what?”

“He – he told me last night,” he continues, now wringing his hands together. “And I know it’s not my place to get involved in your relationship, but it’s just – it’s not right that this has happened and that you probably don’t even know. You deserve to know something as big as this, I don’t care whether it makes me a bad best friend for telling you. I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay when it’s not.”

“Seungmin told you this himself?”

He has to handle this very carefully. Sure, Jeongin has volunteered this information of his own accord, but he’s also closer to Seungmin than he is to Jisung. If Jisung says the wrong thing in response, it might end up souring this conversation – even more than it already is anyways.

Jeongin shifts, sniffling as he nods. “He was pretty upset because he’d just seen Hyunjin in their flat and, uh, Hyunjin had ignored him when Seungmin offered to share what he’d cooked for dinner. So he called me to vent about it and when he mentioned that he’d kissed Hyunjin, I kind of – well, I didn’t blow up at him, but I did give it to him straight. You know, about how wrong it was for him to do that. And I asked if you knew about it and he said probably not since Hyunjin’s kind of shit at communicating – “

Bristling, Jisung interrupts defensively, “He’s not shit at communicating.”

Sure, the statement was true a few days ago, but Hyunjin is really making an effort to be better and so is Jisung. Maybe it’s early days yet, but Jisung has faith in them. Who is anyone else to pass judgement otherwise?

“I’m just telling you what Seungmin said to me. All I know is that communication was something they struggled with at the end of their relationship; I’m guessing Seungmin just assumed it’d be the same for you too.” Jeongin pauses, chewing on his lower lip before adding, “He already thinks you and Hyunjin only said you were dating to get Channie-hyung off your back. At least, he did until this weekend.”

This is the second time Jisung has heard something of the sort. First, when he overheard Seungmin’s confession to Hyunjin and now from Jeongin’s mouth. It summons the memory of his conversation with Minho in the café the other day and how candidly he admitted to not expecting Hyunjin and Jisung to last.

He’s not sure why it surprises him that they’d think that way. After all, it was something he and Hyunjin were banking on when they agreed to fake-date for a while. Maybe it’s because of how quickly their friends adjusted to their supposed relationship. Aside from the usual teasing, there was nothing in their behaviour to suggest that they _didn’t_ buy into it. Jisung can’t help but wonder how many of them privately doubted them.

“Did you think the same?” he asks curiously.

There’s nothing angry in his tone, but Jeongin flinches all the same. The column of his neck flushes pink, answering the question right away.

“At first I didn’t,” he admits. “I believed you when you said you were giving things an honest go after – you know, after you hooked up with each other or whatever it was you guys did. But… Look, the thing you have to realise is that I’m not in uni with the rest of you guys. Most of what I find out is by word of mouth so when Seungmin told me what he suspected about you two, that was all I really had to go off.

“And it made sense in a way. You and Hyunjin, you’re not nearly as affectionate as people would expect you to be. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you kiss properly before the recital and – well, you remember how Hyunjin was with Seungmin. He was all over him, at least until they started arguing all the time. All you and Hyunjin really do is hold hands and sometimes kiss each other on the cheek. Sure, you get caught up in your own little world when you’re talking, but it’s not really the same thing.”

The usual irritation Jisung feels whenever their relationships are compared seeps into his bones. He resists the urge to lash out, not wanting to distress Jeongin for simply answering the question honestly. It’s just… He doesn’t understand why everyone needs to compare their relationship to what Hyunjin had with Seungmin. They started dating when they were _sixteen_ for fuck’s sake. Of course, they were all over each other.

“Not all relationships are the same, Innie,” is all he says albeit in a manner that’s a shade too clipped.

“I know that now. And I’d be lying if I said there weren’t moments when I doubted myself. The way you guys look at each other… It’s not really the sort of look you give someone you’re just sleeping with, is it?”

He thinks back to Hyunjin’s cotton-candy gaze at the comic book café. The way he leapt to his feet to get ready for bed after BamBam’s party and then solemnly asked whether he made Jisung happy over a tall glass of water. The gentle slope of his lips when they were outside the performance arts building on the night of their third kiss, snowflakes rubbing the tips of their noses raw. He wonders what collection of images Hyunjin has of him in turn. Wonders how far back they stretch.

When he pulls himself out of his thoughts, Jeongin is studying him like he’s another textbook he has to commit to memory, not wanting to miss a single thing. He quirks the corner of his mouth up in wry amusement.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” he asks. Or rather, states. He already knows the answer.

Jisung shrugs, unable to keep the smile that spreads across his face at bay. “I might be.”

“Good,” he says. “I’m glad. You guys seem really happy together and I’m sorry for doubting your relationship. And for freezing you out when I did. It’s just… Seungmin really thought he had another chance with Hyunjin. When they started talking again, he would tell me about how it felt just like old times. Hyunjin, too. He seemed a lot happier when they started to go back to normal.

“When I combined all that with the fact that I thought you and Hyunjin weren’t as serious as you were making out, I kind of… couldn’t help but treat you a bit more coldly than I should’ve. I was just so annoyed by the thought of you and Hyunjin doing all this while Seungmin was telling me that he thinks Hyunjin might still love him. I just kept thinking ‘what’s the point?’, like why would you mess Seungmin around like this? To be honest, I was more pissed off at Hyunjin than I was with you, but I still… projected it onto you, I guess? I’m sorry for that. It was wrong of me.”

“Oh,” Jisung says, his lips parted in a picture-perfect circle of shock.

So he wasn’t imagining it when he thought Jeongin seemed strange with him over the Christmas break. At the time, he convinced himself he _was_ just creating a mountain out of a molehill, like a little boy using the shadows of his hands to magick up a story on his bedroom wall. Not wanting to start a conflict that could _really_ rock the boat, he merely shut his eyes to his festering worries and acted like everything was normal.

If this past week is teaching him anything, it’s that pretending that nothing is wrong only delays the problem. Sooner or later, it’ll come back – and this time with a bite that is much fiercer than before.

“I didn’t realise our relationship would create so many problems,” he admits, staring at the half-eaten remnants of his hamburger, now long cold. He pokes at it aimlessly. “We both thought Seungmin had moved on.”

Jeongin chews on one of the few surviving chips they have left.

“I think,” he says thoughtfully, “he figured that if he acted like he had, it would become true sooner or later. But I also think he assumed Hyunjin would take a lot longer to move on than he did.”

“You can’t just break someone’s heart and then expect them to stick around forever.”

“I know. He might be smart as fuck, but Seungmin’s an idiot when it comes to Hyunjin. He always has been.”

If Chan were here, he’d reprimand Jeongin for swearing as fast as a strike of lightning splits the sky. As it stands, all Jisung does is let out a huff of laughter. The two of them share twin smiles, the uneasy set to their shoulders bleeding away.

“You know, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would,” Jeongin says after a moment. “I expected a lot more anger.”

Jisung’s smile takes a sheepish turn. He lets out a hasty cough, tugging on the cold metal of one of the hoops he has in. “Um. That’ll be because, uh, I kind of already knew?”

“What.”

“I saw the kiss,” he explains. “But I ran away before either of them could see me – which means I ran away before I saw Hyunjin push Seungmin off. That’s where all my anger was. Last Sunday, I mean. Hyunjin came and found me afterwards and I ended up yelling at him. Like. Really badly.”

He winces. “Poor Hyunjin.”

“I even broke up with him,” Jisung says, laughing a little. It’s easy to laugh now that he’s on the other side of things and they’ve properly talked things out. The same can’t be said for Jeongin, however. The admission has his eyes bug out and he chokes on his chips, so Jisung hastens to tack on, “We’re back together, don’t worry! We were broken up for all of one hour before we talked it out and kind of – I don’t know, cancelled the breakup, I guess? We’re completely fine now. I know where Hyunjin stands and he knows where I stand. But thank you for telling me anyways. You’re a good friend, Innie.”

Jeongin looks like he’s still struggling to compute all the information that Jisung has thrown at him. But he manages a smile all the same, beckoned forth by Jisung’s final words to split open his face and scrunch up his eyes at the edges. Like always, Jisung feels a surge of protectiveness rush through him at the sight. It doesn’t matter if they’ve gone through a rough patch. He’ll always have a soft spot for Jeongin.

“I don’t feel like one,” he says. “But thank you. That means a lot, hyung.”

He reaches over to ruffle Jeongin’s hair. For once, the younger doesn’t bat him away and merely leans into the touch. Jisung gets the impression he needs it.

“Anyways,” he says, drawing back to clap his hands together. “I’ve had enough serious chats this week to last me the rest of the year. Seeing as how we’ve pretty much lost half of our dinner, what do you say we go to Changbin-hyung’s family restaurant and get some proper food? We’ll play Rock Paper Scissors to see who foots the bill.”

Jeongin accepts the offer readily. “You’re on, old man.”

With that change of plan settled, they collect and bin what rubbish they can gather and then head out of the park in pursuit of some warm food and shelter. Jeongin’s hand tentatively slips into the crook of Jisung’s arm in one last silent apology. Jisung tugs him closer and they walk on.

Exactly one week after That Sunday, Seoul wakes up to the start of an unexpected heatwave. The temperatures crawl into the early twenties although the wind that persists in whipping around the city brings them down to feeling like a good seventeen degrees. Still, it’s enough to have everyone throwing their previous plans out of the window in favour of a day out.

Jisung wakes up to several pictures of Chan and Minho in their local supermarket, posing next to various disposable barbecues with matching sinister smirks. The last picture sent in is of their barbecue of choice, resting nice and prettily against their kitchen door.

 **> Minho-hyung ** **♡**

_guess what we’re doing today ya bunch of losers_

**> Lixie Pixie**

_OMG GET LOST_

**> Minho-hyung ** **♡**

_can’t really do that in my own home_

**> Lixie Pixie**

_I AM THERE ALREADY_

_PUT A FUCKING SHRIMP ON THE BARBIE M8 I’M ABOUT TO BE THRIVING_

Jisung has barely finished reading this last message when his bedroom door bursts open with a thunderous crash, revealing Felix with his hair sticking up in every direction like he’s just stuck his finger in a live socket. He has just enough time to note that Felix only has the one sock on and that it’s halfway down the sole of his foot before the other boy launches himself at him, screeching about the weather outside and having a barbecue and how Jisung needs to get up _right now_ so that they can get going already.

“And if I say no?” he huffs, rubbing at one of the spots in his side where Felix dug his bony little elbow into.

“Then I will cry,” he says with utmost seriousness.

Jisung has seen enough tears to last him a lifetime. Without even hesitating, he rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom for a quick shower. Felix sees him off with a loud round of cheers that has Jaemin yell at him to shut the fuck up from his own room.

They’re the first ones of the group to get to Chan’s house, at least aside from the three who already live there. The rest of the house’s occupants have apparently cleared off already, splintered between a trip to the beach and their own friendship groups, so it’s just them for today.

They enter the kitchen behind Changbin to find Chan and Minho unpacking the meat they’ve bought for the barbecue. Jisung lets out a low whistle as he takes it all in. Damn, they’ve really gone all out for today, he can barely make out any of the table underneath. There’s no way that didn’t burn a pretty hole through their wallets.

“Sungie!” Minho says brightly, beckoning him over. “Come over here, I need help counting out how many seekh kebabs we have.”

“This is child exploitation,” he complains, but he goes over all the same.

He helps Minho unpack the rest of the meat while Felix and Chan tackle the other groceries and Changbin squats down in the far corner, squinting at the instruction manual for the barbecue grill. Someone has hooked their phone up to a set of speakers and a selection of summery pop hits sets the soundtrack for the activity in the kitchen. Jisung is content to just hum along to the music and it seems that Minho is too, at least until he casts a furtive glance towards where Chan and Felix are nattering to each other in English and then digs his elbow into Jisung’s side to call for his attention.

“Ow!” Jisung exclaims, not getting the memo. He rubs his side with a frown. “What was that for, I wasn’t even doing anything?”

Minho looks like he’s trying very hard not to roll his eyes right now. “I just wanted to check in on you.” The _idiot_ he leaves off the end of the sentence can be heard loud and clear. “You know, after the whole thing with Seungmin and all.”

Jisung drops a packet of frozen seekh kebabs. No one seems to notice, other than an exasperated Minho, so he tries not to feel too embarrassed about it.

“What do you mean?” he stammers, playing dumb.

“I heard about what happened last Sunday,” he says. “Chan mentioned it to me.”

“How the fuck does _Channie-hyung_ know?”

“Chan always knows,” Minho replies solemnly, staring dead into Jisung’s eyes before he cracks a laugh and explains, “Hyunjin went to him for advice on what to do. I don’t really know the specifics of it, but I know that Chan’s pretty pissed off with Seungmin. He’s probably going to have a chat with him later today.”

Jisung chances a glance at Chan. He doesn’t _seem_ particularly pissed off. In fact, he’s in the middle of such a loud laughing fit that he’s doubled over onto his knees, Felix grinning proudly next to him. But then again, it’s not like Minho gains anything from lying about it. And it explains how he knows.

“So then,” Minho says, “how are you feeling? Last time I saw you, you were running off to confess your undying love for Hyunjin.”

He swoons pathetically against the chair he’s stood behind, one hand over his heart, so Jisung smacks him with a cut of frozen meat. Ice shards flake off onto their bare feet and Minho dusts his off on the bone of Jisung’s ankle. He skids away with a yell of protest.

“Well, it was an emotional weekend, that’s for sure. But things between Hyunjin and I are cool. They’re really good actually and I think they’ll stay that way.”

A smile rises to his mouth, unbidden. Jisung doesn’t even realise it’s there until he looks sideways at his best friend to find Minho mirroring it. He looks fond, in the manner of someone who has just witnessed a child do something unintentionally endearing. He pats the top of Jisung’s head. Jisung decides not to fight him off this time around, knowing what Minho is trying to convey with the gesture.

Minho tweaks his nose. “Good. I’m happy for you. Now make sure you pass the message onto Hyunjin so he stops glaring at me whenever I’m in the room with you two. If looks could kill…” He mimes a knife slashing across his throat.

Jisung is nothing short of confused. “Since when has Hyunjin glared at you?”

“Ugh, it figures you never noticed. Knowing Hyunjin, he probably never noticed he was doing it either. He’s been hot and cold with me for a couple of months now.”

“He has?”

“Yup. Sometimes I thought I was imagining it, but when you told me that he knows you used to have a crush on me, it pretty much cleared everything up. Tell Lover Boy I’m not after you, alright? You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.”

Still trying to place this supposedly icy behaviour of Hyunjin’s, Jisung can only offer a nod in reply. Minho doesn’t seem to mind because he just lets out another wry chuckle, clearly amused by Jisung’s obvious confusion, and returns to the rest of the bags.

“You should probably talk to Seungmin too,” he adds after a moment. Catching Jisung’s grimace in the corner of his eye, he continues, “You can’t run away from this, Jisungie. Yeah, Chan can speak to him, but that’ll be as – I don’t know, a disappointed father figure or whatever the fuck he is. You’re the one Seungmin has hurt.”

His automatic reaction is to protest. He doesn’t want to confront Seungmin, especially not on a day as sunny and as upbeat as this. All it will do is make things uncomfortable and Jisung doesn’t do well in uncomfortable situations. His favoured tactic is to simply avoid them.

He doesn’t say anything. At the end of the day, Minho is right. He has to talk to Seungmin eventually. He might as well get it over and done with, like ripping off a plaster instead of letting the wound fester with an infection underneath.

By early afternoon, nearly everyone has filtered into the house and from there, into the garden. Chan’s house has a modest-sized garden in the back considering it’s (a) a student house and (b) smack-bang in the middle of Seoul. It’s a bit unkempt since none of the boys living there have a penchant for gardening. Their thumbs are steadfastly brown and it kind of shows, but no one cares too much.

“Me first, me first!” Jeongin exclaims from where he’s tucked under Felix’s arm, watching Chan grill the first cuts of meat. “I’m the youngest here.”

“You’re also a brat,” Chan says, though it’s not without affection.

Jisung watches them from a small distance, chuckling in amusement. At the moment, he’s alone in a little corner in the shade where they’ve dragged out all of the chairs from the kitchen to. He doesn’t mind. He’s content to sit on the sidelines for now and take in the sight of the others’ antics.

There’s Jeongin and Felix hyping up Chan as he grills their food, the smell of cooking meat rich in the air. There is Minho and Changbin at the foot of the garden, playing catch with an old tennis ball that looks like it rolled into storage fifty years ago. Hyunjin isn’t here yet – he has something he needs to sort out with the uni about switching one of his units – but Seungmin is. He lies flat on his back on a blanket that’s laid out across the grass, a pair of sunglasses nestling on the bridge of his nose.

Jisung hesitates, lingering on the younger for a few heartbeats before he decides to just fuck it and get it over with. Slowly, he gets up from his seat, clutching onto his lemonade for emotional support, and then walks over step by step until he’s hovering over Seungmin.

He waits until Seungmin has made a questioning noise, pushing his sunglasses off the bridge of his nose so his eyes can be seen, before he asks, “Can I sit here for a moment?”

“Sure,” Seungmin says easily as though they are both unaware of what conversation is on its way.

He pulls his legs in and sits up, making space for Jisung to plop down. As he drops into a sitting position, a few flecks of lemonade spitting onto his exposed knees, Jisung notices the tight looks Jeongin and Minho throw them. Neither of them betray any other emotion, however, and return to their tasks with renewed cheer, as if to emphasise how much Jisung and Seungmin will be afforded their privacy.

Jisung is grateful for it, even if he doesn’t know how to approach the conversation now that he’s here. He follows Seungmin’s gaze sky-wards, searching for shapes in the clouds that drift by, but they’re too wispy to provide a distraction. He runs his thumb around the rim of his glass nervously and then decides to just – spit it out, he supposes.

“Why did you do it?” he asks, softer than intended. The trappings of anger have stirred awake within him, but they’re not ready to come out in the open yet.

Seungmin drags his eyes away from the sky and looks at Jisung. His face is carefully blank and Jisung isn’t sure whether it makes him angrier or just confused.

“Because I love him,” he replies. “And I thought he loved me too.”

“Even though he’s dating me.”

He nods. “Even though he’s dating you,” he echoes.

The swirl of emotions in his head are rapidly calming down to reveal what they conceal. Jisung feels his pulse kick into a higher pace, goaded on by disbelief. His mouth presses together, drawing down to squash his irritation before it can explode out of him. He’s not confused anymore. He can see all too clearly now.

“You’re the one who broke up with him,” Jisung says tightly. The grip he has on his lemonade follows suit. “You’re the one who told Bomin you want to move on, you just don’t want to make Hyunjin uncomfortable by throwing it in his face.”

“I lied obviously,” Seungmin snaps, his composure fracturing. “Not that the same can be said for Hyunjin. He didn’t just date anyone, he chose to date _you_ , and then parade it in front of my face – “

“We didn’t _parade_ anything,” Jisung cuts across, nostrils flaring in his indignance. “If we did, you wouldn’t have been convinced that we weren’t anything serious. You wouldn’t have kissed my fucking boyfriend.”

Seungmin has no retort for that one. He rears back, his jaw tightening, and then returns his gaze to the sky. Jisung watches his profile – the gentle slope of his nose, the soft round edges of his cheeks – and wonders when it became so foreign to him.

“Why did you do it?” he repeats, this time much more forcefully.

“I told you. I love him – “

“I’m not talking about that,” Jisung interrupts, his voice low and rumbling like thunder. He has barely managed to restrain it, all of the rage and hurt he feels coiled tightly beneath the surface. “I know you love him. I mean why did you do it to _me?_ You’re meant to be my friend, Seungmin. You’re meant to love me too.”

Seungmin and Hyunjin might’ve met when they were four years old, but they weren’t alone in that. Jisung was there too. He has _always_ been there. And if memory serves him right, it was Seungmin who approached him first with a toy car to match Jisung’s and a friendly outstretched hand. Even when Jisung and Hyunjin quickly discovered that they did not get along, Seungmin was there, smiling patiently and bringing them together anyways. He was the reason they both stayed.

Seungmin meets Jisung’s eyes and in it, Jisung sees something sad and broken. A flash of pity passes through him. Most of his anger dies down, leaving him with nothing but a lump in his throat.

“Because I love him more,” Seungmin says simply. “More than I love you, more than I love anyone else. More than I thought I loved him, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. Because if it were the other way around – if you were the one dating Hyunjin and I was the one in your position, it wouldn’t matter to me how much I love him. Loving someone doesn’t give you a free pass to be a dick. Sometimes it means sitting back and letting them move on.”

Seungmin lets out a mirthless breath of laughter. “Well, I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?”

“No,” Jisung agrees. “You don’t. But maybe this time around, you can finally accept it.”

He pushes himself to his feet and turns away.

Maybe the conversation hasn’t gone exactly the way he wanted it to. Seungmin hasn’t apologised for what he’s done and though Jisung had a feeling he wouldn’t, he can’t lie and say he didn’t hope for it anyway. He’s clearly running low on regret about his decision to kiss Hyunjin. The apathy is one that stings, but it’s a pain that Jisung will just have to accept for now. He can’t force Seungmin to change his mind or behaviour. That responsibility lies in Seungmin and Seungmin alone.

Maybe Seungmin will reach that point in the future. Maybe he won’t. In the meantime, Jisung will have to figure out how he’s going to respond to the situation. Right now, he’s angry enough that he wants nothing to do with Seungmin, but in all honesty who knows? He’s always been the sentimental, attached type.

The time to worry about all of that will come tomorrow, however. Today all he wants to do is have a barbecue and maybe kiss his boyfriend.

The same boyfriend who is sitting on the same chair Jisung vacated, watching quietly as Jisung approaches. Not particularly fazed by this, Jisung simply plops himself onto one of Hyunjin’s thighs, sitting sideways on his lap with his arms looped around Hyunjin’s neck. Grass tickles his bare toes as they peek out of a worn pair of sliders and the back of his knees sweat from the heat.

“Well hello there,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to Hyunjin’s mouth.

Hyunjin drops one to his cheek right after. “Hi. What was that all about?” He tilts his head in Seungmin’s direction.

“Nothing.” He shrugs. Already he can feel the negativity from his conversation with Seungmin leeching out of him, as if just being next to Hyunjin heals him right up. “I just thought it was time I stopped avoiding the situation and finally talked to him about what happened.”

“Fair enough. I was meaning to do the same thing later. You wanna talk about how it went down?”

Jisung shakes his head. “Not now. Right now, I just want to relax in the sun, drink some lemonade and eat a seekh kebab. God knows Minho bought enough of them.”

“If that’s what makes you happy, then sure, we can do that,” Hyunjin says, squeezing his waist in comfort.

Grinning, Jisung peers over at him. A familiar wave of emotion forms within him, the tide high and crashing through his entire body. Nowadays, he’s not afraid to label it as it is, a mixture of love and adoration that only Hwang Hyunjin can evoke in him. God, he’s so embarrassingly gone for him. Sixteen-year-old Jisung would be screaming at the sight. Nineteen-year-old Jisung has made peace with it.

He leans over to press his lips against the mole that sits just under Hyunjin’s eye. “Thanks, love. You’re too kind.” He doesn’t miss the blush that spreads across Hyunjin’s face like drops of pink paint in water and grins even wider. “So _that’s_ what you like hearing. Not babe or baby, but love, is it? Aw Hyunjinnie, you’re too cute.”

Hyunjin pinches his side with sharp fingernails. “Shut up,” he blusters, turning even pinker.

“If that’s what you want, my love,” he sings out.

“Ohmygod, I literally hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t.”

He releases a reluctant sigh and pulls Jisung even closer to him, nuzzling the side of his neck. “No,” he agrees. “I don’t.”

It’s so strange to think that there was a time that he did. A time when Hyunjin and Jisung could barely be in the same room as each other without throwing something or leaping forward for an attack. They were similar enough to know exactly what spots they could strike to get the biggest reaction and different enough to want to go through with it anyways. It didn’t matter if they were part of the same group of friends. That did nothing more than make their relationship with each other even more confusing than it already was.

On the other hand, Jisung thinks it’s not so strange after all. The Jisung and Hyunjin of years past, of a few months ago even, would never have fallen for each other. They were too rough around the edges and proud of it too. They needed to grow up first. Needed to sand down the more stubborn parts of their personalities, to shave off the razor-sharp points of their teeth, and learn that compromise isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes you have to put in a little elbow grease to make things work, have to let something give to go forward.

Hyunjin and Jisung aren’t perfect by any means. There are still parts of themselves that catch on each other’s sides and don’t slot into each other like seamless partners in a puzzle. Jisung knows that if they wanted to, they could really hurt one another. But they don’t want that. And at the end of the day, just that is enough.

“Oi lovebirds,” Felix hollers over, his hands cupped around his mouth. “Get over here, your food’s ready.”

Jisung slides off Hyunjin’s lap and reaches out a hand for him to take. Fingers interlocked, their clasped hands swing between them like a pendulum as they walk over to the others. Hyunjin opens his mouth and yells a reply, a decibel too loud and overly dramatic like he always is. Jisung just laughs and knocks their hips together.

Maybe he and Hyunjin aren’t meant to be together. He knows that people must do a doubletake whenever they hear about them, especially the ones who knew them while growing up. To be fair, he’d be the same if it were the other way round.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. This is what they chose, so this is how it’ll stay. Who knows whether it’ll be for the next two months or two years or two decades? Jisung doesn’t. But he thinks he’d like to find out.

“Ow, ow, it’s hot!” Hyunjin shrieks two minutes later, dropping the kebab from his mouth with a high-pitched scream. It lands in the grass by their feet and he slaps his hands to his lips with a pitiful moan. “My _tongue…_ ”

Chan heaves a pained sigh. “I’ll make you another one.”

Snickering, Jisung pulls Hyunjin’s hands away from his mouth and presses a small kiss to his lips so he feels better. “You’re an idiot.”

“Don’t insult me when I’m injured,” he says. “That has to be against some sort of medical oath, right?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. Not bothering to respond, he blows across the top of his own kebab and then holds it out in an offering.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers Jeongin and Felix pretending to retch at the display while Changbin watches on with a soft smile. Minho captures it for his Snapchat and Chan pretends not to notice at all, not wanting to make them feel like they’re on show, and Seungmin studiously avoids looking in their direction. Jisung notices it all, but he doesn’t care. It’s so inconsequential to him now.

All he has eyes for is Hyunjin and the smile spreading across his face: tentative but bright and made especially for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these two losers were broken up for all of one hour before they got back together, jfc they are so dramatic
> 
> the fact that i started writing this on the 29th december and have finally finished it today is just mind-blowing to me. i remember my initial outline (which was literally just a brief post-it note) estimated this to be around 50k spread across five chapters, but clearly that plan went out of the window. perhaps my muse ran away with this a little. to everyone who gave this fic a chance, thank you so much! i hope you enjoyed reading this fic. i’d also like to give a special shoutout to everyone who’s ever left a comment on this fic (especially to those who have commented on every chapter – even if i don’t reply so quickly, i notice you!) because you guys have honestly made my day whenever i’ve woken up to something new in my inbox. the same goes out to my moots on twt who have never failed to make me laugh with some of the stuff they’ve slid into my notifications regarding this fic.
> 
> love you loads <33
> 
> also if anyone has any questions regarding any of the decisions i made in this chapter (for example, how the whole seungmin thing panned out) feel free to ask me any questions :)
> 
> [[twitter](https://twitter.com/thotforcsy)] | [[cc](https://curiouscat.me/jjasmine)]
> 
> [what's going on with seungmin](https://mobile.twitter.com/thotforcsy/status/1312367510038228994)


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